The Painting Knows
by frostykitten
Summary: "Well, I vote we prove destiny wrong. There's no way we're meant to be together or any nonsense like that," Draco said. Hermione forced a smile, knowing that it probably looked like a grimace. "I second that."
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**A/N: I know, I know. You're wondering "what are you thinking; coming out with two new fanfictions just as you finally finished the other two?" I can't just work on one, I have to be able to alternate between the two when I get stuck... I was sleeping, and the idea for this story literally woke me up, I wasn't aware I wrote stories in my dreams, but it seems like I do, so here it is.**

**Thanks to arrandomness for being a wonderful beta and fixing my mistakes! There were a lot of them. I believe something about my eternal debt was mentioned... I'll work on that.**

**~Frosty**

**Disclaimer: Nothing's mine except the plot... All recognisable characters and concepts aren't mine, etc. etc. This will continue to be true for the entire story, so I'm only going to write this once.**

It all started when Draco was rushing down a back hallway of the Manor, using it as a shortcut from the library where he had been secretly taking a conference call with his business associate for the Muggle company he had purchased so he could start making money on his own rather than waiting for his inheritance. If his father found out that he had used some of the money in his trust fund to purchase a Muggle company, Lucius would kill him. Sure, the war was over, but old habits die hard, and the older the family, the harder the habits were to break – and the Malfoys were one of the oldest families out there.

When he had noticed the time, Draco had been forced to end his call and shove his cell phone in a pocket – set to vibrate of course, he didn't want to have to be explaining the thing if it went off while he was at dinner with his parents - the dinner for which he was currently late. His mother insisted that the three Malfoys living in the Manor sit together for dinner at least twice a week; their home was so big that it was entirely possible for them to all live there and never come across each other for days on end, and while this suited the Malfoy men just fine, Narcissa wouldn't have it.

The end of the hallway was in sight, really only a few strides of his long legs away, but he suddenly froze, staring in confusion at one of the pictures on the wall. How had he missed that before? The woman in the picture looked _just_ like Granger. The resemblance was eerie. This woman was even painted in a library, the one Draco had just left in fact. He made a mental note to come back to it after dinner and rushed on his way once again – Mother was a little touchy when Draco of his father missed one of the dinners she planned for them, and life was easiest when Narcissa Malfoy was happy.

He slipped into the dining room and sat down at the place set for him; both of the elder Malfoys looked up at his entrance. Draco cleared his throat, "Sorry I'm late," he told them.

"Again," his father snapped at him. The underlying meaning was _if _I'm_ going to go through these annoying dinners to please your mother, then _you're_ going to deal with them too_. No one ever said the Malfoys weren't a spiteful bunch.

"It won't happen again," Draco tried.

Narcissa frowned at her two boys; was it really so much trouble for them to take the occasional evening out of their busy schedules and sit with her while they ate? She didn't believe that her son would never be late again, but none of them did. These polite words were necessary for them to continue playing the "Happy Family" game that they had been playing since the Dark Lord rose again. After the fall, their family ties had become ever more stretched as Draco resented them for dragging him into the mess they had created for themselves ten years before when they bound themselves to a madman.

"Yes it will, Draco, but we'll wait for you next time as well," his mother told him, causing Lucius to frown; Draco was allowed to be late, but Narcissa would kill him if _he_ was late for her dinner.

"What are the pictures in the back hallway of the east wing?" Draco asked, knowing his father liked to find out that kind of thing – the man's obsession with his own lineage went hand in hand with his tendency towards blood supremacy.

"Those are the Malfoys, by blood or by marriage, who were disgraced and exiled." Lucius told his son calmly, taking another bite of the asparagus on his plate.

Draco knew for a fact that the Black side of his family completely eliminated any member they exiled from the big family tree on display at the Black residence. The Malfoys weren't exactly a soft, caring lot, so why would they keep pictures of those they exiled? "Why would we want a record of the disgraced and exiled on the walls?"

Lucius was happy that his son was finally taking an interest in the history of the family, but why did it have to be that particular hallway that he focused on? "Those paintings are special; they were made with a piece of the subject that allowed the family to trace them should they need to bring them back into the family. Our ancestors did this after the wizard plague of 1372 wiped out almost all of the Malfoys; they had to hunt down an exiled son in order to keep the line pure. It took them months to find the boy, even with magic, so they made those paintings, ensuring that so it wouldn't be as difficult to do again should the need arise."

Draco quickly finished the rest of his dinner, politely asking to be excused and leaving the room. "That boy has no appreciation for the traditions of our family," Lucius sighed as he stared at the door his son had just disappeared through.

Narcissa smiled and patted her husband's shoulder. "Just be happy he bothered to _learn_ the traditions," she tried to comfort him. Lucius sighed again and continued to stare in the direction of the door, wondering what was in store for the future of the Malfoy family.

* * *

Draco left the dining room and headed straight back to the portrait that had stopped him while he was on his way to dinner. She was watching him with curiosity in her eyes, but didn't speak as he approached and read the little nameplate set into the frame, is said "Emerence Elise Malfoy b.1813." Draco frowned; that didn't really tell him anything.

He leaned closer and examined her further, and now that he was looking at her this closely, there were minute difference between this woman in the portrait and Granger; Emerence had smoother hair that was almost a golden colour instead of brown, and this woman had dark green eyes instead of the golden brown ones that always glared at him.

He had been so focused on examining her features that Draco had forgotten that the painted woman could see him as well – she may not have been alive, but she wasn't some inanimate object incapable of thought. She was looking at him questioningly, with her head tilted to the side exactly like he had seen Granger do whenever she faced a particularly difficult question.

"I know someone who looks just like you," he told the woman, half speaking to himself.

Emerence looked like she wanted to tell him something, but started waving her arms around instead of just saying it, looking more and more frustrated as she tried to relay some information to him. It was then that Draco realized that this hallway was completely silent compared to other rooms in the Manor where the paintings were constantly chattering at you. The paintings in the exiled hallway must have had some sort of silencing spell placed on them to keep them from harassing the people who had banished their living counterparts.

He watched as she waved her arms around for a second before turning abruptly and heading back to the library. _It has to be around here somewhere,_ he thought as he scanned the room. Ah, there it was. He grabbed the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ he had been reading while he waited for the conference call to start earlier. On the cover was a full colour photo of the golden trio and their precious Order as they celebrated the one year anniversary of the fall of Voldemort. Potter had come through at the last minute and saved them all and that sort of thing, while the families and the followers of the Dark Lord were left to face the law. Draco and his mother had been let off easily, because they hadn't really committed any serious crimes, but his father had been restricted to house arrest for the next fifteen years.

Emerence started waving at him again the second she could see him from her frame. Draco held up the paper for her to see, showing her the three happy Gryffindors stuck in a loop of hugs and happy smiles.

When the painting caught a good look of the Gryffindor princess, she took a step back with wide eyes and stared. Her hands came up to her mouth and she sat down heavily in one of the chairs behind her as all of the blood drained from her face. Draco was confused; was it really so disturbing to find out someone with similar looks existed a few hundred years after her death? "What's the big deal?" He asked the painting.

She looked up at him from where she had buried her head in her hands, looking at him helplessly. He watched as an idea seemed to occur to her and she jumped up from her chair and ran to one of the bookshelves in the background of her painted prison. She ran back and showed him a book. Draco looked from the book to the woman waving it. "The Delamater Secret?" He asked her, confused.

She nodded and pointed frantically between herself and the word Delamater. Draco distantly remembered something about one of the oldest pureblood families, along with the Malfoys, being called the Delamaters. "Oh, _you're_ a Delamater?" He asked. The woman nodded again, but continued to wave the book at him.

He furrowed his brow in confusion as he watched her; what did she want? It appeared she was beginning to get frustrated with him. Then something occurred to him, "are you telling me that the book you're holding is _actually_ in the Malfoy library and you want me to read it?" He questioned.

Silently sighing with relief, the small painted woman nodded and smiled at him. Draco was momentarily struck by how pretty she was when that smile was directed at him; was Granger that beautiful when she graced people with her smile? Draco wouldn't know, as she'd never had cause to turn that particular expression his way.

The trance he had been in from her smile in was broken when the tiny woman, looking impatient, shooed him back towards the library – apparently the book she wanted him to read was an urgent thing. He shrugged; it wasn't like he had anything more interesting to do with his evening now that he was finished with the conference call and dinner. Emerence looked immensely relieved when she saw the he was heading back towards the library. Draco gave her one last look over his shoulder, seeing her encouraging expression, but anxious body language.

The library, like most rooms in the Manor, was large, lavishly decorated, and void of life. The beams if the setting sun coming into the room from the windows showed all of the dust particles floating around in the room – the house elves were good, but they just had so _much_ to clean. Draco made his way to the general area Emerence had gone to in her portrait and scanned the titles quickly, glad that no one had changed this part of the library in several hundred years, save for adding a few tomes here and there. He quickly located the book he had been searching for and brought it over to one of the cushy leather chairs that were placed by the fire.

The spine of the book made a creaking sound as he opened the ancient covers; it seemed it was unhappy with him for disturbing its rest. Before he could even start reading the first page, a piece of paper fell out and fluttered to the floor.

Draco tilted his head as he looked at it laying on the floor, it appeared to be on some sort of stationary, a letter, perhaps? Reaching down and retrieving it, he confirmed his suspicions as he got a closer look: written across the top of the paper in metallic gold ink was the name "Emerence Elise Malfoy nee Delamater". His pale eyebrows disappeared under his hair as Draco read what the paper said.

_To my dear descendent,_

_I am the last of the Delamaters, and if you are reading this after my death, you are now as I was, the last of the Delamaters; for we've been cursed that each member of our family can only have one child until we're once again living in our ancestral home. Before they were killed, my parents arranged my marriage to a Malfoy man, and I must respect their last wishes by keeping this promise to wed. In doing so, I have ensured that any child of mine will also be a Malfoy, so their ancestral library is where I leave this book for you to find. _

_Listen carefully, dear descendent, for what I am about to tell you is very important: our family has a secret, a very big secret. You need to read this book carefully before your twentieth birthday and understand if you want to live._

_I wish you the best of luck,_

_Emerence Elise_

When he finished reading the letter, Draco scowled; she better not be thinking that Granger was related to her. There was no way that was true; the woman had said it herself: she was married to a Malfoy man, and Granger was most definitely _not_ a Malfoy. In fact, she was a Mudblood, so how was she supposed to be related to a Pureblood woman?

He rolled his eyes at the insanity of listening to portraits that couldn't even speak and were obviously delusional, but he opened the book nonetheless. He was shocked to find that most of the book was blank, save for a small grouping of pages towards the middle of the book.

_For centuries now, the once royal Delamater family have been cursed with the ability to only have one child per generation, reducing their numbers drastically and limiting the spread of their reign._

_It has been said that this curse was the result of one of the older Delamater men refusing to acknowledge a child that resulted from an affair. The mother of this child became bitter after her fiancé refused to marry her once he discovered she had been unfaithful to him and was having the child of another. Left alone and exiled, this woman swore that every Delamater generation would only be able to produce one child, so the entire family would be forced to acknowledge the child whether it was legitimate or not. She also intended this to ensure that the entire line would eventually die out._

_Somewhere along the Delamater line, a Naiad (sea nymph) was introduced into the bloodline, whether through marriage or an affair it is uncertain. Regardless of how it happened, the Naiad blood reacted with the magic flowing through the veins of the Delamaters allowing them to exist for the early part of their lives without their own body of water to support them. Once a Delamater witch reaches her twentieth birthday, however, she will perish unless she claims an unclaimed source of freshwater. _

_This condition seems to only affect the females in the Delamater line, possibly because the Naiad are only female. To counter this unfortunate weakness, one Delamater man came up with the idea to magically create a small lake on the grounds of his ancestral home, allowing the women in his family to claim it as theirs and to continue living supported by the freshwater there. The ancestral home will allow anyone with the blood of the family into the grounds, but all others must have a member of the family present with them in order to enter, unless the wards are altered by a member of the family._

Draco paled as he saw the last page; it was a family tree going back hundreds of years, and the last entry on the page was 'Hermione Jean Granger'.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**A/N: For the sake of the story, it's a self-updating family tree. Also, I'm aware this is a shorter chapter than the first one, but I needed to stop it where it is. My plan for this story is chapters that are 2500-ish words, give or take 500 or so.**

**On a different note, Essays are evil. Very, very evil. And they have a tendency to gang up on you because the professors are all working with the same course lengths.  
**

**Thanks to arrandomness, for betaing, and thanks for everyone who reviewed, favourite, etc.**

**~Frosty**

_Draco paled as he saw the last page; it was a family tree going back hundreds of years, and the last entry on the page was 'Hermione Jean Granger'._

He quickly did the math in his head; he vaguely recalled that Granger was a few months older than him, making her just shy of twenty. Panic set in then. This was why he had made a horrible Death Eater: he hated it when people died when it was possible for him to save them – he was just soft-hearted like that.

He scooped up the book and went back to the painting of Emerence. "This is what you wanted me to see, wasn't it?" Draco demanded angrily, waving it in front of Emerence.

The woman nodded solemnly and pointed to the last name on the list, reminding him that Granger needed to see the book. "You actually want me to go _find_ her and warn her what's going to happen?" He demanded disbelievingly.

Emerence nodded vigorously and pointed again for emphasis before gesturing to the windows behind her to indicate that he was running out of time to find the girl and warn her. He hesitated, knowing the woman wanted him to agree to warn Granger, but who said she would even believe him when – and if - he found her? She was looking at him imploringly, hands twisting anxiously in front of the poufy skirts of her robes.

Draco groaned, most people saw the Dark Mark on his left forearm and immediately assumed he was a bad person, but this infuriating piece of art was the opposite, immediately assuming he was a _good_ person. This was a strange new occurrence for Draco, and it made him hesitant to disappoint her. "Fine," he muttered, not looking at her to see her gratitude – it unnerved him. "But I'm not going anywhere tonight, it's too late. I'll go find her tomorrow morning," he said, glancing up for a second to see the shining eyes of the happy portrait for a second before he turned away and went to his room – he had a lot to do before he went to find Granger in the morning. How hard could she be to locate? She was a war hero obsessed with books and libraries. There were only so many places she could go without someone knowing who she was and reporting it to their friends and family, if not the press.

* * *

She inhaled the comforting smell of books as she walked into one of her favourite buildings in the world, the largest wizarding library in all of Britain. Located in a very small town to the north of Glasgow, it was surprisingly empty most of the time, allowing her precious moments out of the spotlight and alone with her books.

After the Final Battle, Hermione had gone back to school and had just recently graduated from Hogwarts. As a reward for her contributions during the war, Hermione had been rewarded with a sizeable amount of money that allowed her to rent a flat as she spent a few months figuring out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

The most recent subject of her studies was a wonderful old book of Muggle stories about magical beasts; she was enjoying comparing what she knew to be reality about the magical beasts from the wizard books she had access to. The book was so enthralling that she didn't hear the footsteps that approached her, nor did she see the tall blond man standing on the other side of the table she was sitting at watching her.

Draco was once again frowning as he regarded the Gryffindor sitting at the small table in a back corner of the library. She was so focused on what she was reading that she didn't even notice him standing there! Draco liked to think he wasn't vain, but he knew he was noticeable, particularly when he was practically looming over someone in a place that was virtually deserted.

Interrupting her was the first thing that popped into his head, but he quickly dismissed that notion – it would most likely piss her off, and he needed her to at least be willing to listen to what he was going to say. Draco started to feel awkward standing there watching her, and awkwardness was not something any Malfoy felt for very long. To avoid feeling like he was looming over her, he pulled out the chair across from her and flopped down into it, tipping his chair back on the back legs and resting his feet on the table, making himself comfortable – if she continued reading like she was now, it could be a bit of a wait until she came back to the real world.

Hermione finished the chapter she had been reading on the different types of dragons and took a second to process and file away everything she had learned before she started on the next one. Something – possibly her battle sharp senses honed during her participation in the war kicking in a little late – made her glance up to see someone leaning way too far back in his chair for it to be safe with his _feet_ on the _table_.

"Malfoy?" She asked disbelievingly when she recognised the person that was being so rude in a place as sacred to her as a library. He started at the sudden sound of her voice and managed to topple over backwards, causing a loud clatter and earning himself a glare from the closest librarian.

Hermione pressed her hand against her mouth in an attempt to stifle the laughter threatening to spill out at the sight of someone usually so coordinated like Malfoy do something so clumsy. She stood up from her chair to peek over the edge of the table, making sure he hadn't _died_ or anything – it would completely ruin her favourite place to have Ghost of Malfoy lurking around.

He groaned, rubbing his head and pulling himself up with the assistance of the table. "Don't get your hopes up, I'm still alive," he muttered at the girl, noticing she was trying to stifle her laughter.

"What is it you want Malfoy?" She asked quietly once she had her giggles under control. The usual venom she would have normally put into anything she addressed him with was absent. The conclusion of the war and the dramatic fall he had just taken had served to wipe away some of the hatred she felt towards him. Some. She needn't get carried away. He was still a prick.

"I want to tell you something –" Hermione wasn't listening to him though, something was bothering her.

"How did you find me here?" She interrupted. No one knew she came here, not even Harry and Ron. This was her personal place where she came to escape from everyone, so how did Draco Malfoy find her? It may have been the biggest and best stocked library, but it was not well known or frequently visited by many people.

The blond across from her raised an infuriating eyebrow at her question. "I was looking for Hermione Granger and this is the biggest library in England, it was kind of obvious," he told her, looking at her like she shouldn't have even had to ask. "Now, if you're done interrupting, I didn't just come looking for you to subject myself to your company, I have something to warn you about," he said, getting frustrated with her - he was here to warn her that her life was in danger and she laughs at him and then interrupts him? No. This was going to go his way or not at all, dire warning or not.

Hermione huffed at the attitude he was giving her, but he had captured her curiosity; what could Malfoy possibly have to tell her? She made a gesture for him to elaborate.

"You're not going to believe this, but there's a painting in the Malfoy Manor that looks exactly like you," Draco started. He paused for a second, unable to think of a way to explain his discovery with her without explaining that he had spoken with the painting and looked into it. Showing that much interest in someone who was supposed to be their enemy without the intent to destroy them as motivation was just something a Malfoy did not do. Being soft was embarrassing.

He saw that Granger was getting impatient waiting for him to get to the point. "Just read this," he sighed, handing her the book Emerence had directed him to.

Hermione took the book from him, wondering what kind of trick he could possibly have in store for her. Humouring him seemed like the best way to get rid of him, so she opened up the book he had handed her, surprised to find that there were only a few pages in the middle that actually had words on them. She shot a glance at Malfoy before starting to read.

Her first reaction upon seeing her relatives and eventually her own name on the family tree in one of the later pages was shock. Was Malfoy here claiming she was the last member of a long lost family or Purebloods? She shot him another glance, but he had taken the book she had been reading when he arrived and seemed to be almost as engrossed in it as she had been when she had been reading it – since when had Malfoy liked reading? Was it possible he always has and just hid it from most people? She shrugged and went back to the book, there had been two pages stuck together right after the family tree proclaiming her part of this Delamater family.

_Coveted for her beauty and song, a Naiad must be careful about which people she allows near her once she has come into her heritage, for she might accidentally hypnotise those around her in times of extreme emotion. In these times, she will unconsciously emit a high pitched sound, entrancing those nearest to her and allowing her escape. Contrary to popular belief, the song of the Naiad is not a conscious thing, but rather part of her natural defence system._

_For every Naiad, there is one immune to her song. This person is her destined partner, chosen by fate as the one she will be most happy with for the rest of her life. Once this partner is discovered, she will be eternally faithful to him, choosing to be alone instead of finding someone else should she lose him._

Hermione finished the page and looked once again to the blond sitting across from her. "If any of this were true, why would you even tell me?" She asked, not caring that she was interrupting his reading.

"Emerence looked so desperate, my family exiled her, I felt like I owed her," he said without looking up from the book. Hermione frowned at him, annoyed. Then she wondered if this was what Harry and Ron felt like when they were asking her questions and she wasn't paying any attention to them? Maybe she'd cut him a break for that.

"Show her to me," she demanded, making a quick decision. She wasn't going to believe Malfoy without at least seeing this painting first. It could all be some kind of elaborate prank meant to ultimately humiliate and insult her.

"I can't, she's fixed to the wall in the Manor with a Permanent Sticking Charm," he said, still not paying her much attention.

"Well then take me there," Hermione said firmly. _That _statement made him look up from his book, his head snapped to focus on the obviously insane Gryffindor across from him.

"Granger, my _parents_ are there," he reminded her, worrying for her mental state.

"I don't care; I need to see her for myself. If this is right, she's my several times great grandmother." Draco watched as she gave him the same look Emerence had when she wanted him to read the book. He sighed and stood up; apparently he wasn't any more comfortable with disappointing Granger than he was with Emerence.

"Fine, but don't make a sound, and don't touch _anything_," he ordered, holding out his arm so she could Side-Along Apparate with him. "Almost everything in the Manor will be trying to kill you for being Muggleborn, you don't need to be provoking it by touching anything," he added quietly, half to himself, as he Apparated them both to the Manor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Ah I love Halloween. I'm going as a Slytherin, it's going to be very exciting. I've been busy with schoolwork and I kind of put off reading this over, you guys have my wonderful beta arrandomness to thank for getting this edited so fast.**

**Poor Draco, I'm picking on him again... But Hermione's got enough to deal with right now, so I'm leaving her alone for the moment.**

**~Frosty**

Hermione stepped away from Malfoy the second her feet were firmly on the ground. She looked around the room they had suddenly popped into and was surprised by how light and airy it was. There was no furniture, just a large fireplace, so she assumed that it was a room designed specifically for guests who wished to Apparate or Floo in.

"Don't. Touch. _Anything_." Malfoy told her forcefully as soon as she had stepped out of reaching distance.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think you overestimate how interesting the contents of your home are, I wouldn't _want_ to touch anything," she lied. According some books that she'd read, there were several magical artefacts hidden in the Manor that she would _love_ to get her hands on and examine.

"Draco?" A female voice called from down the hallway. "Is that you?" Hermione watched as something very interesting happened; Malfoy's eyes widened as he looked down the hall, he looked horrified – not just scared, but positively horrified. This spectacle was interrupted when he opened the nearest door and shoved her inside the room, shutting the door after her.

"Draco?" His mother asked again, coming around the corner to see her son. "Were you with someone just now? I thought I heard you talking to a woman a moment ago," she asked, looking hopeful.

Draco wanted to hide his face in his hands, she was about to start – "Because you know how I feel about you bringing women home," she said sternly.

"There is no woman, Mother. Do we have to get into this now? I'm very busy today," he tried, knowing from experience it wasn't going to work. He could only hope that Granger wasn't listening.

"Yes we have to get into this now! I'm not getting any younger and I want grandchildren before I'm too old to appreciate them!" She snapped, looking a little bit teary.

"Mother, you're not even fifty yet –"

"Don't give me that 'not even fifty yet' nonsense! You're just like your father, dismissing me when I'm telling you what I want," she said, as a tear escaped and trailed down her cheek.

"Mother, I understand you want grandchildren, but I really think I should get a say in the matter -"

She suddenly stopped crying and smiled radiantly at him. "Excellent! I'll go arrange a meeting with a nice Pureblood girl I met today. I think she'll be the one." She said confidently, walking away purposefully before he could even answer.

Draco watched her go for a second before sighing, it was a mother's job to embarrass her son, but Narcissa Malfoy took it a little far – and she wasn't even trying. He turned and went to join Granger in the room he had shoved her in, realizing belatedly that it was his bedroom.

He found her leaning against the wall beside the door with both hands pressed against her mouth, once again trying to suppress her laughter. Draco glared at her. "Not a word of that leaves the Manor," he warned, doing his best to be threatening.

Hermione privately observed that he looked much less threatening now than he had before this interesting day with him had begun – not that she had even been really afraid of him. It probably had something to do with the fact that she had laughed at his misfortune twice and the worst she had received was a nasty glare. Maybe he was going soft.

Upon seeing that his glare was having no effect whatsoever, Draco gave up and turned towards the door again, sighing. "Let's just get this over with," he told her, poking his head out into the hallway to make sure no one was lurking in the halls before leading the way towards the portrait of Emerence.

Hermione was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice Malfoy had stopped right in front of her; she stumbled to avoid colliding with him, but was distracted from yelling at him for suddenly stopping when she caught sight of the painting he was indicating on the wall. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the woman in the painting staring back at her with equally wide eyes. "Emerence, Granger. Granger, Emerence," Draco introduced the two while they were staring at each other; Mother had drilled manners into him since he was young and just because he only ever used them for the stupid parties Mother threw didn't mean he didn't remember them the rest of the time. He just chose to forget them.

"She looks just like me," Hermione whispered to herself, unconsciously bringing her hand up to her throat in her shock.

Emerence got over the shock first, possibly because she had seen a picture of this girl before and had had time to adjust to the idea of someone who looked so similar to her. She went to the shelves and once again retrieved 'The Delamater Secret', waving it and looking pointedly at Malfoy.

Draco rolled his eyes, understanding where the tiny painted woman was going with this. "Yes, I showed her the book, why do you think she wants to see you?" He asked exasperatedly. This whole being helpful thing was more trouble than it was worth; what was in it for him? Nothing. That's what. He wasn't even really clear on _why_ he had brought her to his home. Maybe it was in defiance of his father, who had more rules and ideas about what a Pureblood should be than a defeated man confined to his house should be allowed.

Hermione looked between Malfoy and the painting. "Is everything I read in the book true?" She asked, watching Emerence closely for her answer. Upon receiving a nod, Hermione had an important decision to make: to trust Malfoy and this painted woman and the story they had, or to risk death when she reached her birthday.

"Okay, I believe you," she told him; she hadn't survived through the war to end up dying because she wasn't fully human and needed to find some _water_. There was an awkward pause as she tried to think of something else to say. "Umm... Thanks?" She tried, cringing a little when it came out as a question. "I owe you one, Malfoy. You kind of saved my life." She immediately regretted saying that, knowing it was going to come back and bite her in the butt later, Malfoy was not the type of person anyone would want to owe a favour to, particularly when he wasn't all that fond of the party owing him. Now all she had to do was find this ancestral home thing while at the same time avoiding Malfoy as best she could.

"Don't mention it. To _anyone_." He told her threateningly; it would completely ruin the remainder of his reputation if it got out that he had helped her in any way. "You can't Apparate from here. Go down this hall and take the sixth door on the right. And don't get caught!" He added as an afterthought; frowning as he contemplated what his father would do if he found Granger wandering the hallways of the manor. His frown deepened when he thought about the reaction he would face when his father found out she'd been _invited_ in.

He made the mistake of glancing towards the Emerence before he walked away, she was giving him a disapproving look, her hands were on her hips and everything. "No," he told her firmly, knowing what she wanted and refusing to have anything more to do with Granger. Emerence stomped her foot in frustration and pointed after the brunette, insisting he follow her as best she could without the ability to verbally order him to do it.

Draco scowled at her for trying to order him around - he was a Malfoy, after all – and then at himself because he was actually considering _obeying_ the order. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the ideas that the portrait was putting into his head. It was _not_ going to happen. He would not sully himself further by continuing his interaction and assistance of Granger. _Not_ happening.

* * *

Hermione had a bit of a scare on her way back to the Apparition room. She had just turned the corner into the hallway she had been directed to, when she saw Lucius Malfoy glaring right at her. Her wand was out and directed at him before she realized that it was just a painting. Closer examination of the portrait revealed that it wasn't even Lucius, it was someone called Aristio Malfoy. Nervous, she rushed to rest of the way to the Apparation room and spun on the spot to return home.

Safely in her living room, she sat down on the couch and took a second to arrange everything she had learned in this stressful but interesting afternoon. She took a deep breath. Okay, all she had to do was find something that no one had seen or known the location of for over a hundred years and then she had to somehow claim a body of water. 'How does one _claim_ a body of water?' she thought worriedly.

A nice dinner of shepherd's pie –comfort food - and then a hot bubble bath before bed, that's what she needed. Everything would make more sense in the morning, or at least she'd be in a better state of mind to deal with it. She went to go find the potatoes that were hiding in one of the cupboards in the kitchen, telling herself that everything was going to work out just fine, like it always seemed to do.

* * *

The next morning dawned gloomy and wet, like most mornings seemed to when she had some serious research to do. Maybe there was some sort of connection between the weather and her plans for the day. Or maybe it was just almost always gloomy and she _always_ had some research to do. Her personal library was the place to start; she had developed quite an interest in magical creatures, starting with house elves and moving on from there, so she had amassed an impressive collection on the subject.

She was about to settle down on the table in the small spare bedroom she had converted into a library in her flat, when she heard a knock at the door. Who could be here this early in the morning? She wasn't expecting anyone, and she had learned from experience that unexpected guests rarely carried good news.

A look out the peek hole revealed a big gray eye peering back at her. She squeaked in surprised and jumped back from the door, not used to people looking back at her when she checked to see who was out there. Recovering her composure, she whipped open the door and glared at the blond standing there. "Malfoy, what are you doing here?" She snapped, a little embarrassed by his ability to startle her.

Draco was still angry at himself for giving in and allowing the evil, manipulating painting to silently convince him to show up at Granger's house. Unfortunately for... pretty much everyone and everything he would come into contact with for the next while, he was in the mood to take his anger out on everything around him. "You forgot the damn book," he told the glaring brunette, shoving the book against her chest and pushing past her into her flat.

"I'm going to skip the pleasantry of telling you that you have a nice place here, mostly because I'd be lying and I'm in too foul a mood to exercise my manners at the moment," Malfoy told her as he made himself comfortable at the kitchen table. "Not that you're worth wasting the effort on," he added as an afterthought. She appreciated him giving her the book and everything, but not enough to be willing to deal with his presence for a prolonged period of time... or any period of time really.

_You can't kill him, if he's right, you owe him your life_ Hermione kept repeating in her head; it was the only thing keeping her from cursing the obnoxious blond until he couldn't _think_ straight, much less have the thought power remaining to insult her. She retreated to the library to continue what she had been doing before he had interrupted her research time, hoping he would be gone by the time she came out again.

Draco watched her go, silently berating himself for even showing up. _Now _what was he supposed to do? He should have just given her the book and left, instead he was stuck in her tiny flat on an offensively patterned sofa! Leaving wasn't an option, that would be too close to admitting her standoffish attitude had gotten to him and made him leave, meaning she would win this little game the both of them were playing.

He shifted uncomfortably as he heard her moving around in the next room. It was strange for him to be able to _hear _someone who was a whole room away – first the Manor, then Hogwarts both had exceptionally thick walls that were almost as efficient sound dampeners as a silencing spell. If leaving wasn't an option and staying where he was wasn't an option – the pattern was starting to make him nauseous - then he was going to have to go with the only other choice available to him: annoy Granger. He sighed as he got up; this was going to mean more contact with her.

Halfway up the stairs he paused as something occurred to him: she was being almost _nice_ to him, which meant she must feel _some_ sort of gratitude for his assistance in bringing this matter to her attention. Oh, this was going to be good; he'd be able to push her much further before she threw him out if she felt like she owed him something.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**A/N: As always, thank you to arrandomness for being a wonderful beta reader, and thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, etc. You guys are great!**

**My only excuse for not posting in so long is when you keep having to read articles and poetry for class, you really don't feel like using brain power to write... Particularly when the essays are circling, waiting for when you least expect it to all gang up on you... That's what it feels like anyway.**

**I have the next chapter almost written, but I'm not quite happy with the ending of it, so I'm working on that... It shouldn't take as long as it took me to post this one to post the next one, but if it does, it's because I have 4 major essays due in the next month followed by exams. *Horror* Three exams on ONE DAY. Who does that? *sigh* *rantcomplete***

**~Frosty**

Hermione was never one to be rude to her guests, but Malfoy was really starting to try her patience. She had been hoping that he would leave when she stopped paying attention to him, but she had been wrong. He had wandered into her library after being alone on the sofa for a few minutes and had sat on the table she was working on. She'd glared at him and shuffled the pile of books she had found on various topics pertaining to her problem away from him so that he couldn't knock them over.

That had been a few hours ago.

Hermione was still studying and Draco was getting more and more bored by the second. "Is this all you ever _do_?" he finally gave in and asked. By speaking first, he lost the round, but the silence and boredom were driving him _insane._

"It is when the research I'm doing can mean the difference between my life and my _death_," she snapped at him, with perhaps a little more venom than she'd intended. Her research was going poorly and she was taking it out on the closet thing that caught her attention. It really helped that the closest thing was very, _very_ annoying.

"Doesn't your research _always_ mean the difference between life and death?" He drawled, poking at the pile of books she's accumulated around her working area. "You need to lighten up a little, go outside. Date. Maybe you wouldn't be so... prickly all the time if you had a good shag every now and then."

Her mouth was open to retort, but nothing seemed to come out. Sure she hadn't had a date _recently_, but she went outside. Just because every time Malfoy had a date it was in the paper didn't mean that everyone else didn't date, it just meant that some people liked to keep their personal lives personal. Judging from what she had witnessed at his house, _he_ didn't even get to pick his dates, his _mother_ did - which actually explained why there were never any second dates in the paper...

"What's wrong, Granger?" He asked tauntingly. His tone was just asking for her to rise to the bait, so she did. It was the final straw.

"Get. Out. Now," she told him tightly, doing her best not to hex him with the wand she suddenly found in her hand. It was like her hand had grabbed it on its own accord, but it was a happy accident in her book.

Draco realized he'd perhaps gone a little far in his tormenting of her when he saw that she had her wand trained on him. It was time for a strategic retreat. He quickly backed out of the room and out the door, leaving her flat completely and appearing in his room. Damn. She had won after all.

Once the nuisance was gone, Hermione took deep breaths to calm herself. She didn't know what it was, but something about Draco Malfoy just got under her skin. She took a few minutes to adjust the wards she had set up to keep him out should he ever try to visit again before going back to her books. It was only later that she realized he had almost given her a compliment by recognising that her research was important.

Two weeks later, Hermione was ready to start banging her head against the wall; she had been going on little sleep and food in an attempt to get as much research done as possible, and she wasn't actually _getting_ anywhere. She had exhausted both her personal library and the public ones she usually frequented, finding nothing. She usually worked well under pressure, but this instance was a special case. Also, she _knew_ there was almost guaranteed to be at least some of the information she was looking for at Malfoy Manor, but she refused to actually ask Malfoy for his help.

She was getting desperate and running out of resources, but she had one more place to check before she was forced to do something drastic – like owl Malfoy. All the arrangements had been made for her last resort, all she had to do was Floo over there – Hogwarts still didn't allow Apparition within the grounds, so Professor McGonagall had permitted her to Floo into the headmaster's office.

Double checking that the Muggle business suit she had on was wrinkle free before she entered the fireplace – McGonagall had asked her to speak with some students while she was there, and she needed to look professional. Satisfied that she was presentable, she grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Miss. Granger," Professor McGonagall said as soon as Hermione stumbled out of the green flames and into her office.

"Thank you Professor," she said politely – calling the woman Minerva, even after all they had been through, was not something Hermione could do without feeling like she'd suddenly decided to address her grandmother as 'Grammy G' or something equally odd.

"I've scheduled you to talk to the children after dinner, so you'll have the whole day undisturbed in the library," the older woman told her from behind her desk.

Hermione smiled gratefully and turned towards the door, eager to get on with her research. "I'll send someone to remind you when it's time for your meeting with the students," the headmistress called after her, knowing full well how lost the brunette could get when she was really invested in her studies.

As she walked through the hallways, Hermione couldn't help but notice all of the differences in the place besides the obvious scars on the surface that the final battle had left. There had always been a tension in the air just under the surface while she had still been in school, and that tension was absent now, allowing the children to actually _be _children instead of forcing them to be something closer to reserve soldiers, waiting until all hell broke loose and the adults needed their help. Everything seemed brighter without that looming over the place. The fact that it was late June and these children were almost done with their school year probably added to their light-hearted attitudes.

The library was almost completely empty when she got there – not many children would want to be in there on a Sunday morning, particularly not on a day so sunny or so close to the temporary freedom from schooling that the summer would provide. Madam Pince nodded to her as she walked into the place she had spent so much of her time while she was in school, just as the old woman had done when Hermione was still a student and would continue to do for future students.

The library hadn't changed much in the short time since Hermione had last been there, making it an easy task to find books that seemed like they would be helpful. She gathered a big stack of books and moved to one of the back tables that she had preferred for their privacy and quiet in her school years.

Whispered conversations and giggling caused her to look up from her book a short time later. There were children hiding behind the bookshelves closest to her and trying to be stealthy as they peeked at her before retreating and _giggling_. If there was one thing that drove Hermione insane, it was giggly girls wandering around places that were supposed to be quiet an interrupting the people who were there to do serious work with their incessant noise. She had a feeling that this was how Krum had felt when he had been at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament a few years ago.

She turned back to her book, resolving to block out the noise as best she could – there was no point making a scene in the library, it would only disturb more people than the gigglers already were. Her frustration with the girls almost made her miss the name Emerence in the book she was reading on Naiads. She berated herself for being inattentive and reread the paragraph that she had missed.

_Throughout their history, Naiads have chosen Muggles over Wizards as their mates, possibly because of the reaction that happens between the magical and the Naiad blood in the offspring resulting from a union with a Wizard. However, one notable exception to this pattern is the Delamater line, which has had Naiad blood mixed in with their magical blood for several generations. Emerence Malfoy nee Delamater is famous for leaving her Pureblood husband for a Muggle when she realized that the Muggle man was the one she was meant to be with. As a result of this betrayal, the Malfoy family exiled her to the Muggle world, where she and her new husband eventually died. It is not known whether children resulted from this union, but it would be interesting to research the effects of Muggle, Pureblood _and_ Naiad blood combined in one person. _

_It has been speculated that in an offspring of the two, the Pureblood and Naiad blood would cancel each other out, resulting in Squibs for a few generations, before the two dormant types of blood reassert themselves. _

Hermione wrote down her new information and read the rest of the book, hoping for another mention of _something_ that might be helpful to her, but she was disappointed. At least she now knew what had become of the woman hanging on the wall of Malfoy Manor. The book had also answered the question that had been nagging at the back of her mind for a while: how could her parents and grandparents and most likely great grandparents be Muggles but she a Naiad?

"Excuse me?" a tiny voice asked, breaking her out of the thoughts she had been trapped inside.

Hermione looked up from the table she had been frowning at while she thought to see a scared looking Ravenclaw girl standing across the table from her. "Can I help you with something?" Hermione asked the girl gently, not wanting to scare the poor thing who looked terrified as it was. It had been a while since she'd had a proper night's sleep, but Hermione didn't think she was grumpy enough to warrant the fear this girl was showing – maybe the child was just naturally shy?

"Headmistress McGonagall sent me to come and find you. She wanted me to tell you that it was time to come speak to the students," the little Ravenclaw said without looking up once from the floor. Hermione was a little confused why McGonagall would send someone obviously terrified by the thought of contact with her to come and fetch her, but she nodded and closed her books before standing up and walking towards the exit of the library.

"Aren't you coming too?" Hermione asked when she noticed that the girl had stayed rooted to the spot she had been standing in when she had first seen spoken.

The girl looked at her with adoring eyes. "You'd let _me _walk with _you_?" She asked in awe, with the most hopeful look Hermione had ever seen on her face.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" Now she was confused. Why in the world would she think that she wouldn't be allowed to walk with her? Did she come across as some sort of monster that refused to be associated with shy Ravenclaws and made them walk a set distance behind her?

"Because you're a war hero and I'm nobody." Hermione frowned at that; just because she did what was right during the war and tried her best to help people didn't mean that she was somehow better than other people.

"Just because some people know who I am doesn't mean I'm any better than anyone else," she said briskly, motioning the girl to come walk with her. Together they stepped out of the library and into the almost deserted hallways – it seemed that most of the students were still outside despite it being past time for dinner.

"I'm Hermione, what's your name?" Hermione asked the girl, hoping she might relax a little bit if she felt they knew each other a little bit better.

"Abby," came the answer. Hermione thought it sounded just a little bit more confident than before.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Abby." She told the girl just as they arrived at the door of the classroom where Hermione was supposed to be speaking.

When she pushed open the large, heavy door, Hermione was surprised to find that the room on the other side was larger than she had expected – it was in a part of the castle that had been destroyed in the battle that took place there, so she was unfamiliar with the new rooms built. There were also more people in attendance than she had expected, it looked like every seat was filled with students from varied houses who had come to listen to her speak. Abby squeaked in horror when she saw how many people were in attendance and quickly rushed towards the back of the room where she could hide from all the eyes that had turned to her when she entered with the person they were all waiting for.

Hermione was at a loss. She had expected maybe twenty students to show up and ask her questions about her time at Hogwarts, not to give a lecture to all of these students. A group of expectant faces watched her as she turned to face them and then tried to wipe her suddenly sweaty palms on her skirt – she had always loved to answer questions in class, but that was with what she was going to say prepared ahead of time and when there was a definite right and wrong answer. Now she was stuck facing a room of people and she was going to be forced to improvise.

"Um, I guess we'll start with any questions you might have for me?" She tried, berating herself when it came out as a question. _She _was the one who was supposed to be in control of the situation here.

Luckily, it seemed like almost everyone in the room had a question, so she just started picking hands and answering their questions. They were mostly standard things, asking about her part in the war, her friendship with Harry Potter, and her school life at Hogwarts. After a half hour or so of these simple questions, Hermione was starting to get the hang of this thing and was able to relax a little.

"I have a question," someone in the back said, raising only a hand for her to see. Hermione had a bad feeling about this person; that voice sounded oddly familiar, and not in a nice way. However, she was there to speak to the students and answer some of their questions, and this person had a question.

"Yes?" She asked politely, hoping she was wrong about the owner of said voice.

"Hypothetically, if someone wanted to be like you, would they have to put the stick in their arse, or would it naturally develop there once they started acting like know-it-all prudes? I know a lot of these kids are dying to know how they can be just like you." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down and not murder him in front of a room of impressionable children.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**A/N: Okay, I just got back from the movie, and it was good! It feels like a holiday for some reason, I wore my Hogwarts uniform sweater and everything. I kept waiting for Ron to die for the whole movie though... I think that might be the influence of fanfiction, or perhaps just wishful thinking. Whatever. Anyway, my point: it gave me the idea for a scene, but before I can get to it, I need to post this chapter... See? I sort of had a point. On with the writing!**

**Wow! Look at me go, getting a chapter out only a week after the previous one! Part of getting it out so soon is thanks to arrandomness for beta-ing and getting it back to me so fast, and part of it is because I got sick and missed school, so I've had more time to write! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favourite, etc, you guys are wonderful!**

**~Frosty**

_She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down and not murder him in front of a room of impressionable children._

His question was met with horrified silence from both the students in the room and Hermione. "Malfoy, how did you even get in here?" she finally asked, partly because it was the only thing she had to say to him that didn't involve unpacking her more offensive adjectives, and partly because she was genuinely curious.

The students seemed startled by the fact that they had a Malfoy among them, some of the poor children even looked a little scared and turned to Hermione for reassurance that they were safe. At the moment, anyone between her and the blond were in grave danger of getting in the way of the Avada Kedavera she was about to fire at him.

"Who do you think donated the money to reconstruct this wing?" He asked, getting up from his seat and walking towards the front of the room as if he owned the place – which he didn't; donating the money to rebuild was completely different than owning!

Hermione glared at him the whole time he approached her, but looked past him to the assembled students when he was close enough for her to address him without anyone else hearing. "If you'll excuse me for a second," she said to the class before grabbing the prat by his arm and dragging him out the door and into the hallway.

"What is your _problem_?" She hissed viciously the second the door was shut behind her. First he harasses her in her home and now he insults her in front of a room of children! She hadn't even given enough notice to McGonagall for her appearance to be published in the paper or anything; the headmistress had gotten back to her in the same day when she had sent her an owl asking if it was all right that she use the library. The plan to talk to the students and answer some of their questions had been even more last minute than the trip to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had sent another owl after the one giving Hermione permission to use the library, so how did Malfoy know she was going to be at Hogwarts, much less in this particular room?

"At the moment, most of my problems can be traced back to you," Malfoy told her as he brushed off the arm she had touched.

"And how does this concern me?"

"If my misery is your fault, you should have to suffer as well, hence my presence."

Hermione stared at him with a strange mixture of confusion and anger, mostly anger. "What kind of twisted logic is-" She let out a frustrated breath, realizing he wouldn't have an answer to her question, and if he did, it would be even more infuriating than the situation already was. "Never mind, just tell me why you're here." He almost looked disappointed that she didn't want to hear whatever he was going to make up on the spot in answer to her question.

"I'm here to make sure my funds are being used to my satisfaction," he said, surprising her with his concern over the school, while at the same time annoying her with his presence.

"Wait, you actually donated the money to reconstruct this wing?" It didn't seem like a Malfoy thing to do.

"I know charity is a hard concept for you to wrap your little Muggle mind around, but yes, I did."

Who the hell did he think he was?_She _was the one who had practically given up her _childhood _to help save everyone, and here he had donated a few thousand galleons and suddenly he thought he was superior. Well, more superior than he'd already thought he was.

Hermione was about to answer him with a scathing retort that would undoubtedly cause him to respond with one of his own, when she happened to glance back towards the classroom and noticed the worried face of Abby as well as a few of her peers peeking out of the tiny crack the door was opened. It seemed they were concerned that the big, bad Malfoy would do something to hurt her. Like he could.

_Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me_. The old Muggle saying her mother had always quoted when Hermione had come home from school upset that the other children had been teasing her about her large teeth or her bushy hair popped into her head. Malfoy had never physically hurt her, even after she had slapped him in third year, his power to hurt her lay solely in his words, and if she were to ignore those words, he would be powerless.

"And did you find that the funds were being used to your satisfaction?" She asked with a forced fake smile, refusing to get into a shouting match with him over something like charity.

Draco narrowed his eyes and looked Granger over suspiciously; what was wrong with her all of a sudden? She was all... smiling at him. It was obviously fake, she looked like she was in pain, but it was still an attempt at a smile. Maybe she thought he'd give up on his mission to make her miserable if she pretended he wasn't bothering her? Poor, naive Granger. He was kind of impressed by her ability to resist being sidetracked though.

"I did," was all he was willing to say on the matter.

Hermione's fake smile dropped off her face and she frowned at him once again; why was he suddenly so serious, and why was he being so sparing with his explanations? Probably because he knew that to her, not knowing something would drive her insane with curiosity. She recovered her fake smile as best she could for the sake of the watching children and ignored the burning curiosity that was already starting to bother her. "Well Malfoy, try and keep your inspections from interrupting my classes," she told him briskly before turning her back on him and shutting the door in his face, cutting off any retort he may have had.

Her tight smile relaxed into something more genuine as she took in the room of faces turned to her, waiting to see what she was going to say next.

* * *

Draco scowled at the door Granger had just shut on him. He really did have a legitimate reason to be visiting Hogwarts, but it didn't have anything to do with the donation he had given to the school to assist with the rebuilding process. He was actually visiting because McGonagall had sent him an owl saying that they were going to put a plaque up in the wing he had taken an interest in thanking him for his generous donation. Not one to throw away the chance of recognition – provided it was the right kind – Draco Flooed to the castle immediately to make sure that the plaque was properly worded – he couldn't have a plaque hanging around the school for future generations to see that made him out to be some bleeding-heart Hufflepuff.

He'd opted to walk off the grounds and then Apparate home on his way back from the Headmistresses office, mostly because he was pretty sure staying in the presence of the Headmistress any longer than necessary after insisting they completely reworded the plaque would have been detrimental to his health . On his way, he'd been sidetracked by a pair of Ravenclaws talking reverently about Hermione Granger coming to Hogwarts to give a lecture. Needless to say, Draco had followed them and snuck into the room, hoping they were right and he was going to get to annoy Granger in her natural setting, the classroom.

Making a nuisance of himself and humiliating Granger had gone well, but since he was outside the classroom and she was currently inside going on with her little speech as if nothing had happened, he reluctantly gave her the point for this round. It was time to regroup before one of the students reported he was still in the school and causing trouble to one of the teachers and they took his plaque away.

* * *

Hermione had always felt the most at peace when she was standing in the rain. Her recent discoveries led her to believe it was because she was a Naiad, with a connection to the water, but she wasn't thinking about that at the moment. She was walking in the rain the day after her encounter with Malfoy at Hogwarts trying to figure out why she kept running into the prat. It was downright annoying.

"Hermione, have you been walking in the rain again?" Ginny asked impatiently the second Hermione walked back into her flat.

"It's calming," she defended herself as she moved past the redhead and into her room to find some dry clothes; walking in the rain was great, staying in the soggy clothes afterwards; not so much.

Ginny followed her and lent against the doorway as she watched Hermione dig through her closet for something comfortable to wear.

"You only walk in the rain when something's bothering you," Ginny said.

Hermione looked away. Stupid, observant redhead. She hadn't told her friends about her little problem, there was no need to worry them about something crazy that Malfoy and a painting told her – something that may or may not even be true.

"It's nothing, Ginny."

Ginny frowned. "Hermione, you have this habit of trying to deal with everything on your own and trying to be strong for everyone. You need to stop, it's not healthy. Now tell me what's wrong," she told her, getting in front of her friend in an attempt to make eye contact.

Hermione was forced to turn her head away once again, taking a breath in preparation for the lie she was about to tell. "I went to Hogwarts today and Malfoy was there, he said something insulting and embarrassing in front of a room full of students who came to listen to me talk." There, drown out the bigger issue in smaller truths.

Ginny sympathetically patted her shoulder. "Malfoy's always been a prick, you can't put any weight in anything he says," she told her friend to accompany the pat. "Why were you at Hogwarts in the first place? Ginny asked.

Hermione tensed;_this_ was why she rarely tried her hand at lying! For some reason her fast thinking brain just shut down when it came to deceiving people. Maybe she was just too honest or something, but whatever it was, it was annoying. "I needed to look up a potion ingredient for a potion I'm making in the library there; I just couldn't find anything in any of the public ones," she finally came out with, cringing at how hesitant and awkward she sounded.

Ginny sighed and looked her friend over. Hermione was tense and refused to make eye contact with her, plus that lie did not sound at_all_believable, but Hermione obviously wasn't ready to share, and she wasn't quite worried enough to pry. Yet. If this kept up, she might have to – for Hermione's own good, of course. "I'm going to pretend I believe you so that we can get on with this night out we've planned."

Hermione wanted to slap herself in the forehead. Had she really forgotten that she was supposed to go out to dinner with Ginny and Luna tonight? She scowled and looked at the outfit she had chosen for lounging around the house and doing some more research, she was going to need to choose something else. This was Malfoy's fault too; if he hadn't been there to throw her whole day off, then she would have never _needed_ that walk in the rain to calm her down, causing her to forget about the girl's night planned.

"Give me five minutes to get changed, help yourself to whatever's in the fridge," Hermione told the redhead, shooing her out of the room so she could get changed. Luna had actually been the one to suggest the three of them get together; apparently the former Ravenclaw had something she wanted to share with them.

Ginny wandered to the fridge and grabbed an apple to tide her over until dinner. She perched on the counter, careful to check that there was nothing to ruin her dress there before she sat down – not that Hermione would ever intentionally leave a mess on the counter, she just had a habit of getting caught up in her reading and forgetting things there.

When she was finished eating the apple and the core had started to brown, Ginny glanced at the clock and scowled; she had been waiting an awful long time for Hermione to put a dress on. "Hermione, what's taking you so long?" She demanded, worriedly glancing at the clock again; they were going to be late for their reservation.

She pushed open Hermione's door when she received no answer. "Hermione, what are you doing?" Ginny asked in exasperation when she found her big-haired friend sitting on the edge of her bed reading a book.

"I had an idea and I needed to double check something," Hermione told her absently, seemingly unconcerned that her wet hair was dripping all over her fancy dress and bed covers.

"Had an idea about what?" Ginny asked slyly, hoping that Hermione was too engrossed in her reading to censor her words.

"This Naiad thing," the bookworm mumbled as she ran a finger down the page she was reading, seemingly searching for something. Ginny grinned triumphantly; it wasn't much to go on, but it was more than she'd had before.

Hermione froze when she realized what she'd unwittingly told Ginny, looking at her redheaded friend with worry. "Never mind, it's really nothing Ginny." She cast a quick drying charm when she noticed the wet state of her hair and the surrounding area.

Ginny continued to watch as her friend gave her pleading eyes. "Can we please just forget I said anything?"

"Hermione... Are you in some sort of trouble?"

The brunette tilted her head to the side as she compared the time she had left with the size of the task; she remembered to include the possibility that Malfoy was only using this as some sort of new way to mess with her. "I don't think I am at the moment, but I may be in the near future," she said hesitatingly. "I promise if I'm in over my head, I'll ask for help," Hermione added.

Ginny spent a minute longer gauging her friend's sincerity before nodding. "All right, but the_ second_ you're actually in trouble, ask for help."

Hermione agreed and they both apparated to the restaurant where they were supposed to meet the third member of their party.

They walked into the restaurant and both of their faces took on identical looks of horror as they took in the person Luna was sitting with, watching intently but not speaking.

Hermione had dealt with the second blond enough that day, so she looked to her companion to do something. "Luna..." Ginny started hesitantly, approaching slowly like Luna was going to do something dangerous at the first sign of quick movement. "Why are you sitting with Malfoy?"

Luna looked up at Ginny and Hermione and smiled. "Malfoy's hiding something, and I came over here to stare the answer out of him," she said dreamily. The two former Gryffindors looked at the blond woman, completely mystified.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**A/N:Thanks to everyone who reviewed, etc! You guys are the best. This is the betaed version! Thanks to arrandomness for betaing!  
**

**On another note, I have a Christmas story! It's only 10 000 words and it's complete! So if you're feeling like a Christmas story, you should try it.**

**Happy Holidays everyone!**

**~Frosty**

_Luna looked up at Ginny and Hermione and smiled. "Malfoy's hiding something, and I came over here to stare the answer out of him," she said dreamily. The two former Gryffindors looked at the blond woman, completely mystified._

Draco scowled at the three women around him; they were ruining what was supposed to be a relaxing dinner with Blaise. Only Blaise hadn't shown up and then the loony former Ravenclaw had spotted him, announced he was hiding something and joined him at the table without asking. She had been staring at him for almost ten minutes before Granger and the She-Weasel showed up. He took a long drink of his Firewhiskey when he caught sight of what Granger was wearing. He didn't think he was allowed to think the things he'd started thinking when he saw the way it clung to her.

"Are you going to do something about her, or do I have to get my wand?" Draco snarled, at the end of his rope. He had given up trying to get rid of the lunatic staring at him, every time he said something to her, she'd insist he was hiding something and then resume staring at him in silence. His temporary solution had been to order Firewhiskey and hope someone came to retrieve the mental woman sitting with him before he snapped and hexed her. He was hoping her friends would be able to remove her from his presence.

"Luna, can we go to our table now?" Hermione tried; the longer Luna insisted on staring at Malfoy, the longer she had to be in the presence of Malfoy, and she was still mad at him for the stunt he'd pulled the day before at Hogwarts.

Luna looked back at her friends and tilted her head to the side as she stared. "I can't Hermione, he's hiding something and it's important. I think it may be about you."

Hermione and Draco both stared at her in disbelief, wondering how in the world she knew that. If Draco hadn't been so skilled at Occulmency, he would have thought she was a skilled Legilimens, but he was, so she wasn't. Maybe it was just the eerie intuition that seemed to come with her random, unhinged ways.

Ginny frowned at all of them. Was the world going insane? Luna was sitting at the table with Malfoy, and she was pretty sure Malfoy and Hermione had shared a quick glance when Luna declared that Malfoy was hiding something about Hermione.

A waiter approached the table, sensing the tension hanging around the four, but fearing for his job if he refused to take their orders. He cleared his throat before asking: "are we ready to order?"

"Another Firewhiskey," Draco ordered, holding up his empty glass. "And a separate table for these three," he indicated the two women standing awkwardly by his table and the third one still staring at him.

The waiter looked helpless for a second before walking away to go get the drink – he had a feeling that another drink might help the angry blond man better handle the news that he had no power to remove the women from his table.

"I'm not moving until he tells me, I have a feeling it's something important," Luna insisted when Ginny leaned down towards her ear and started to rapidly tell her something in a whisper.

"Luna, he's already told me the important thing he's hiding. In fact, it's probably better for me that he's hiding it." Hermione spoke up.

Luna turned and looked at Hermione seriously before slowly turning back to Malfoy and tilting her head. Whatever she was going to say was interrupted when Ginny stomped her foot like an impatient five-year-old. "_Someone _tell me what's going on here! Why am I the only one left out?" She demanded impatiently.

"Granger, reign in the She-Weasel, she's making a scene," Draco groaned from his seat as he took another gulp of his drink. The Firewhiskey was going a long way to soothing his nerves, as was Granger's obvious discomfort with the situation; there was something soothing about watching her squirm.

Hermione blushed when she realized that Malfoy was right, people were staring. She grabbed Ginny's arm and pushed her into the empty chair to Malfoy's left, before taking the one to his right for herself.

Draco scowled at her and regretted his insistence that he and Blaise be seated at a table for four - tables for two were for females and dates, not a pair of blokes - when the two former Gryffindors sat down on either side of him. People were _looking _and he was sitting with former Gryffindors and a batty former Ravenclaw. If he were the type to feel things like mortification, he would be feeling it in spades.

"I said reign her in, not _join me at my table_," Draco snapped, glowering at Granger.

"I wasn't thinking, I just wanted people to stop looking," Hermione snapped right back.

"And it worked so well." Draco gestured to the entire restaurant, where everyone was sneaking subtle glances at their table from behind their menus or out of the corner of their eyes and whispering. He gave everyone looking their way a frosty glare and watched as they quickly went back to what they were doing, carefully avoiding looking in their direction.

Hermione scowled at him, annoyed that a glare from him could do something she could only wish to happen.

"Why does no one ever tell me what's going on?" Ginny asked Luna sadly; having given up on actually finding out what was happening, she opted to instead lament her state of unwilling ignorance.

"Because you want to know so badly, it makes people think you have a motive for wanting to know," Luna told her in her usual brutally honest way as she patted the other girl's hand comfortingly.

"Now that no one's looking, you can _leave_," Draco hissed, prepared to get up and leave them with the bill for his drinks if they didn't leave immediately.

Luna seemed to understand that he was done putting up with them, so she grabbed a hand of each of her companions and led them over to the table that had been reserved for them. "So how have you two been this week? Personally, I've had a wonderful week; I successfully de-Nargled all the mistletoe hanging around the house _and _I finished the article I've been working on for The Quibbler," Luna rambled at the other two once they were safely seated at their table.

"Luna... It's only June, why do you have mistletoe up?" Hermione dared to ask, more than willing to be distracted from everything Malfoy related.

"I like to try and bring a little holiday spirit into all the other months so they don't feel left out," Luna said with a dreamy smile. The pure oddness of the blond managed to make her companions forget a certain other blond for the rest of their girl's night. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they failed to notice Malfoy glance at his watch one last time before angrily asking for his bill and leaving.

* * *

Draco slipped out of the restaurant, glad that the attention of the eerie lunatic was no longer focused on him – one of the few times he was glad someone's attention was focused somewhere else. He was surprised to find that he was a little tipsy; it usually took more than the few drinks he'd had to feel them. He stopped and went back over his day and realized he hadn't had much to eat to absorb the alcohol, and he'd consumed a little more than he'd originally thought. Now he was going to wake up with a headache. Lovely.

Ignoring common sense – he was a Malfoy and _nothing _common applied to him – Draco pulled out his wand and attempted to apparate, only to discover he was a little more than a _little _tipsy.

A loud pop preceded his appearance in a place _not _his bedroom. He scowled around at the vaguely familiar walls, plush carpet and furniture, but was too tired to care. A look of confusion crossed his face when he realized that he could _feel _the plush carpet.

A glance down at his feet revealed that he wasn't wearing shoes. Odd. Perhaps he had splinched his shoes off? He hoped so; otherwise they were under the table at the restaurant.

Frowning at his bare feet one last time, Draco padded over to the couch and plopped down on it – he would deal with this shoelessness thing when he was more awake... and sober. There was a conveniently placed blanket thrown over the back of the couch, so he pulled it over himself and went to sleep.

He had barely fallen asleep when a loud screech woke him up again. It seemed it had been later than he'd thought when he'd gone to bed, and the birds seemed to be going a different direction with their singing that morning.

"Malfoy!" Screeched the birds. That was odd; as far as he knew, none of the birds knew who he was – not that it was hard to find out who he was; his staggering good looks _were _rather memorable.

He began to suspect that he may be dealing with some really scary birds when the blanket was ripped off of him and the birds began to screech even louder.

"Malfoy! What the _hell _are you doing in my living room?" The birds demanded again. He cracked one eye open to get a look at these mutant birds, but was confused by the shrubbery that seemed to be moving around. A _soft _shrubbery, he discovered when he tried to stop it's moving. Wait. He knew a soft shrubbery!

"Granger?" He asked the birds and the shrubbery, confused and groggy. "Why're you in my house?"

"It's not _your _house, it's _my _house!" Granger screeched at him.

He rubbed his drooping eyes and looked around; so it was. Then it hit him: he was in Granger's house? Draco's sleep and alcohol muddled mind couldn't make sense of his situation. How did he manage to get to Granger's? He blocked out whatever she was harping on about to focus all of his attention on _why _he was on her sofa.

Ah, yes. It was her damn dress! That dress that Granger had worn for whatever she was doing with those moronic friends of hers. The dress that made her look like a woman, an _attractive _woman, instead of the strange being that was only distantly related to real women and liked to spend it's spare time lurking around libraries and bookstores. He'd known that, as a female, she'd have to have legs and a shape under all of those clothes, but it had never occurred to him that they might be... anything less than unpleasant. All of this had flashed through his mind as he had attempted to Apparate himself home, resulting in him appearing in Granger's living room.

Damn. He was in Granger's flat. Again. And she was still in that bloody dress! He scowled in the direction of said dress.

"Malfoy, are you even listening to me?" Granger demanded, but he only half registered that she was talking, the dress had drawn him in again.

Hermione glared at the moron and whacked him on the side of the head before crossing her arms over her chest. "Is there a reason you're staring at me like that?"

Draco was surprised. Looking at her like what? His confusion had obviously registered on his face because she elaborated. "Like you just picked up a boring, gray pebble, only to find it's a nice, shiny one that you need to add to your collection."

"I think... something's grievously wrong with me Granger, I'm going to use your Floo," Malfoy said as he unsteadily got up from the couch and made his way over to her fireplace. He disappeared in a whoosh of green flames before she could even comment on his strange behaviour.

Hermione watched him go, confused as to what that little episode was all about. Something was seriously off about that man, but she was tired, and it was late, so she paused a minute to change her wards – they obviously weren't warding against Malfoy properly – and headed to bed.

* * *

Hermione got back to her books the next day with renewed energy and vigour thanks to her little break with her friends and despite her run-in with Malfoy. She was just getting ready to break for lunch when the sound of the floo alerted her to the presence of a guest. "What _now_?" She groaned quietly as she went to investigate who was in her house.

"Hi Luna, what can I do for you?" She asked when Luna came into view, holding something strange looking in her hands – but then, when wasn't Luna holding or doing something strange?

"Oh, Hermione! I thought I'd run into you here," Luna chirped dreamily.

Hermione made sure to keep her smile in place instead of the look of annoyance that was trying to sneak onto her face. "This is where I live, Luna."

The batty blond looked around the flat and then back to Hermione. "Which is why I came here before checking my own house," Luna replied as if it was obvious.

"What can I do for you?" Hermione sighed, hoping to get this encounter over with as soon as possible by jumping right to the point – not that Luna wasn't one of her good friends; it was just that sometimes, you just weren't in the mood to deal with irrational people who only lived partly in your world.

"I have something for you," Luna said, setting the... thing she was holding onto the counter. "It's papier-mâché, I've been experimenting with Muggle arts and crafts. Oh, and I forgot to tell you what I was going to tell you and Ginny last night because I was distracted by Malfoy and his secret."

"What is it Luna?" Hermione asked, suddenly worried that something was wrong; Luna was a little... intense about everything she said, it was hard to tell when something was wrong or when something went right for that girl. What if she was in some kind of trouble? She snuck another look at the... creation sitting on her counter, hoping Luna didn't expect her to use it as a centerpiece on the table or anything; that monstrosity was going straight to the back of her deepest closet, where it wouldn't visually assault anyone else.

"I've bought a new house. It's a little bit old, but it's the only one we looked at that didn't have any Nargles in it."

Hermione chose to ignore the strange bits in that sentence – it was a must in conversations with Luna. "Congratulations! Are you moving in with Neville?" she asked, genuinely excited for her friend.

Luna nodded gravely. "He's going to be bringing his plants with him, so I still won't be able to safely explore the yard."

Hermione was about to attempt some sort of comforting words – she knew how much Luna was fond of exploring – when the other girl continued: "But the house next door has lovely grounds that I can explore, no one's lived there for a while."

"That's great Luna! When are you moving?"

Luna tilted her head and looked at Hermione with confusion. "Moving where?"

"To your new house?"

"Oh, no. I moved in as soon as I bought it, I just thought you'd like to know where to find me. Neville says we should throw a housewarming party, so you're invited." Nodding to herself and staring off into the distance, Luna turned to go. "It's on September 12th," She added before disappearing into the Floo.

Had she not been used to this type of behaviour from her friend, Hermione might have been offended by the abruptness of Luna's departure; as it was, this type of thing was frequent, so she didn't even give it a second thought before going back to her books. Luna's party was a week before her birthday, and she didn't want to be worrying about her approaching death for the whole thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**A/N: Thanks to arrandomness for betaing amazingly fast! Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, etc! You guys are great! **

**~Frosty**

_Had she not been used to this type of behaviour from her friend, Hermione might have been offended by the abruptness of Luna's departure; as it was, this type of thing was frequent, so she didn't even give it a second thought before going back to her books._

Hermione's research was once again interrupted, but this time it was by an owl; a very regal, snobby looking owl. Her chair creaked when she stood up to open the window for the bird, as if even it was protesting yet another interruption from her books. Hermione frowned at the bird; she was in complete agreement with her chair.

She opened the window and held out her arm for the owl, but it obviously hadn't been instructed to wait for an answer, because it only dropped a letter at her feet before turning around and heading back out the window, managing to cuff her with its wing as it passed her.

After glaring at the owl, Hermione bent down and retrieved the letter.

_Granger,_

_Take down your damn wards or I'm breaking them down. I know you have my shoes, they're my favourite ones and I refuse to buy a new pair._

It wasn't a signed letter, but she had a pretty good idea who it was from. She briefly thought about ignoring the orders, but she had no doubt that given enough time, Malfoy could manage to break her wards; he was actually a formidable wizard when he wanted something. Motivation seemed to be his only problem.

She heaved a huge sigh before waving her wand and altering her Malfoy-specific changes to the wards. Almost immediately there was a pop from the living room.

"I don't _have _your shoes! You weren't wearing them when I found you last night," she yelled, hoping it would make him just leave before they really got into the arguments.

"Hermione?" Called a voice that was _not _the one she had been dreading. "Whose shoes do you not have? And you found someone last night?" Harry asked as he followed the direction he'd heard her yell coming from to find her.

Hermione's eyes widened. Shite, she needed to get rid of Harry before Malfoy showed up. "Harry!" She exclaimed, rushing over for a hug. "What're you doing here?" She asked.

"Ginny's worried about you, but said you wouldn't tell her what was wrong," Harry said, holding her at arm's length to get a better look at her.

Hermione's brows drew together; meddlesome, observant redhead. "It's nothing Harry, I have everything under control," she told him with a fake smile and a flippant wave of her hand. "Really Harry. I went through all of this last night with Ginny. I'm _fine_, and if I need help, I'll _ask_," she reassured him when it looked like he was going to protest.

Harry saw her eyes widen and something flash across her eyes, but it was too fast for him to pick up. "Hermione?" He asked, wondering what was wrong. Her eyes flickered back to his face.

"It's nothing. You've checked on me now, isn't it time for you to leave?" She asked him, not caring at the moment if she was sounding rude.

"Umm, bye?" Harry asked.

"Bye Harry!" Hermione said quickly as she grabbed the Floo powder and threw it into the flames for him.

"Oh, and Hermione, be careful. There have been reports on a group that's been going after people who were prominent in the war," he warned before giving her one last confused look and disappearing in a surge of green fire.

Hermione ran her hands through her hair and heaved a huge sigh. "Since when do _you _hide from confrontation?" She questioned.

Malfoy stepped out from behind the door where he'd been hiding since he'd walked through her front door to discover Harry standing with her in the living room. "I didn't come here for a fight Granger, I just want my bloody shoes back!"

"Malfoy, for the last time, I don't _have _your shoes, nor have I seen them since they were on your feet!" She yelled.

Draco was about to respond, but all of the colour suddenly drained from her face and she collapsed. There was a thud as she hit the floor that seemed to echo around the room. That was odd. What could make her collapse like that? He slowly moved forward and poked her with the tip of one of his second-favourite pair of shoes, worried this was some sort of trick.

"I'm going to get blamed for this," he groaned, crouching down to examine her. She was still white and seemed to be breathing too lightly. He glared daggers at her, but she wasn't conscious to even see it; a little voice in his head told him that it was always better when she could glare right back and say something hurtful. The frown that made its way across his face was directed at himself; since when did he actually _enjoy _the time he spent arguing with Granger? Now that he was really looking at her, she looked awfully fragile laying there on the floor. He shook his head hard to clear it of silly notions and stood back up.

Having finished his inexpert examination, he pulled out his wand and attempted a Rennervate on her, but it didn't work. Bloody Granger, passing out while he was the only one present and making him feel those annoying feelings like _responsibility _and vague worry. Vague! He levitated her onto the couch and apparated away.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered, looking around the entranceway to St. Mungo's for the telltale Healer's robes. "You!" he said louder, spotting a man who looked promising. He was a round man with no hair on the top of his head and a gentle expression on his face, he looked like he would be easy to intimidate _or _to bribe, which suited Draco's needs.

The man started and glanced over his shoulder. "Can I help you Mr..."

"Malfoy," Draco finished for him, watching the man pale. He sighed, it wasn't like he was going to curse him or something just because he was a Malfoy – though it did mean he had the money to get away with it, should he ever need to, but that wasn't the point. "I need your help."

"Of course, are you sick?"

"No, but someone I know is." Draco didn't give that statement time to sink in, he grabbed the man's arm and apparated him to Granger's flat.

"That's Hermione Granger," the man said with wonder once his feet were firmly on the ground again.

"That she is, now _fix _her," Draco snapped.

The Healer glanced back at him, but moved forwards and held his wand over the unconscious woman. He carefully examined the stats his spells were giving him and frowned. "I haven't seen anything like this since I was in Greece helping that Naiad woman." He seemed to say more to himself than to Draco.

"She's a Naiad," Draco piped up from the chair he had settled in to watch. He got a startled look in response, but the Healer started muttering different spells than before, and gradually, Granger began to regain some of her colour and seemed to be breathing easier.

"Has she found her own water?" The Healer asked as she started to move restlessly, like she was about to wake up.

Draco was going to answer, but was interrupted. "No, I haven't," Granger said, sounding faint. He eyes opened and landed on Draco before flitting over to the Healer. "What happened?"

"You're dying," the Healer told her. It seemed that the man wasn't going to try and sugar coat it. "But then, I'm assuming you already knew that. You're going to keep passing out like this until you find it, there's nothing really to do for the fainting spells but wait until you wake up again."

Hermione went cold with his revelation, but nodded. She knew she would die if she didn't find what she was looking for by her birthday, it was just scary to have it put in those terms by a professional.

"You didn't think you'd just suddenly _die_, did you? It's a gradual decline with the eventual death on your birthday," the Healer added, noticing her initial panic. "You'll need to take it easy and not push yourself too hard, but there's nothing else I can really do."

Hermione nodded again. "I understand, thank you."

Draco watched all of this, getting impatient. "Yes, yes. Death and all that. You're not needed anymore," he said to the Healer. He pulled a small bag of Galleons out of his pocket and handed it over to the man. "This never happened, you took a coffee break or whatever it is you do, but you've never seen either of us and this didn't happen."

The man took the bag from him and peeked in, his eyes going huge. He nodded shakily and turned to go, but Draco grabbed his arm to stop him.

"If one word of this gets out, don't think I won't hunt you down," Draco threatened in a hiss, knowing Granger wouldn't approve of his threats or his bribery and not in the mood to bicker with her about it.

The man nodded more firmly and apparated away.

"Thank you, Malfoy," Hermione said from the couch, not wanting to push her luck and attempt to stand up yet.

"Just give me my shoes so I can leave," Draco sighed, tired of dealing with the woman and the drama that seemed to live around her.

"I don't _have _your shoes," she huffed. He stared at her for a long moment, seeming to attempt to see through her, but it was more likely he was attempting to use Legilimency on her. Her eyebrows drew together in a scowl, but she met his stare, knowing he wasn't going to be able to get through her mental defences. Surprisingly, he didn't even try to get into her head; he just stared for a second to judge her honesty, before nodding curtly and looking away.

"I was never here, this didn't happen, tell no one and so on," he muttered in her general direction before popping out of her home.

Hermione wasn't sure what to feel about Malfoy; he seemed to hate her, just like he did in Hogwarts, but he kept doing things to help her. He'd been the one to go out of his way and warn her about being a Naiad, and now he'd brought a Healer to help her when she'd passed out. He'd tried to be sneaky about it, but she'd seen the bag Malfoy had handed over to the Healer, and she had no doubt in her mind that it contained a large sum of money. Why would he keep going through all of that trouble for someone he hates?

Her worry over her death rapidly dwindled away into nothing; all she had to do was find her ancestral home through research and hard work, and she'd be fine. It wasn't like she hadn't faced death before, and it was far less hopeless this time than it'd been when she was younger and in the midst of a war with a group that specifically targeted her kind.

She took a deep breath and slowly sat up, pleased to find that she wasn't dizzy or anything. Hermione was glad that Ginny hadn't been present; had she been, she would have demanded an explanation – a _complete _explanation. She just wasn't ready to give one of those yet.

Carefully leaning on the arm of the couch, Hermione managed to lever herself into a standing position – she wasn't dizzy, but her little stint of unconsciousness seemed to have drained all of her energy, and her legs were wobbly. She reached out for the nearest wall, and leaned on it for support, for once glad that she lived in a flat and not a large house with _stairs_. Her bed had never seemed farther away than it did in that moment, but she was able to use the walls and furniture to drag herself into her bedroom and flop down onto the bed.

She sighed with relief when she didn't have to stand up anymore and wiggled around in her bed until she had the covers overtop of her, falling into a deep sleep almost immediately.

* * *

Draco scowled at both of his parents as he sat through yet another family dinner.

"There's an opening at the Ministry, I think you should take it," his father said, startling Draco out of his silent contemplation of the mash potatoes on his plate.

"You might meet a nice girl there," his mother chimed in hopefully, making her son roll his eyes.

"Can we just... not have this argument right now?" He asked, really not wanting to get into a fight with his parents when he already had so much on his mind.

"Why does it have to be an argument?" Narcissa demanded.

"Because I have enough on my plate right now, I have no patience for your pestering," Draco told the both of them, meaning to sound stern, but only sounding tired. What was wrong with him?

"Is it a girl?" Narcissa asked with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Draco tilted his head and remembered The Dress. "I suppose you could call her that." Then he remembered how small and pale she'd looked while unconscious and cringed; had it been any other person, he would suspect that he'd been genuinely worried about her, but this was Granger, and he needed to get a hold of himself.

His mother was looking at him in confusion, obviously waiting for some sort of explanation of his comment, and his father was looking on with mild disapproval – it was his favourite expression when it came to looking in his son's direction.

Draco was about to elaborate and ease his mother's confusion at least – though even a severely watered-down explanation would increase his father's disapproval - when something strange happened. He jumped, barely managing to hold down a very un-Malfoy squeak.

"What's wrong dear?" His mother asked him worriedly as she watched him squirm in his seat. Lucius didn't comment, but his look of disapproval intensified.

"Nothing. Excuse me," he quickly said, getting up and rushing out of the room.

"Damn Muggle device," he muttered angrily, fishing the vibrating cell phone out of his pocket; it always freaked him out when it started vibrating, particularly when he forgot that he had it on him. He never answered it in front of his parents; he would never hear the end of bringing Muggle electronics into their home. It was a missed call from Blaise, probably explaining his absence... and only just over twenty-four hours late!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**A/N: I've written 4 000 words today because it's Christmas holidays and I have a lot of spare time. So, as a reward to you guys, here's the next chapter! My posting schedule is so erratic, I know. Almost a month without any posts and then two posts in three days. I should have another chapter out within a week of this one... I'm quite a few chapters ahead, so I think I'm going to try for one chapter every week or so. We'll see.**

**As always, thanks to arrandomness for fixing all my mistakes and helping me make more sense!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, etc! It was partly your wonderful reviews that encouraged me to spend so much time today writing.**

**~Frosty**

Hermione woke the next morning feeling refreshed, and not at all like she was dying. Her little scare the night before had provided her with the motivation she needed to overcome her pride and ask Malfoy for help. The Malfoy library was well known for being one of the best sources for everything Pureblood-related in Europe, probably the rest of the world as well, because they were _that _obsessed with lineage.

Cozy warm and comfy, it seemed her bed was doing everything it could to keep her in it, but she managed to reluctantly drag herself out of bed and into the shower where she hoped she'd be able to wake up enough to deal with her next task.

Having showered and dressed, as well as meticulously brushed every little tangle out of her hair, Hermione had nothing else she needed to do before she owled Malfoy – with the time limit she was working with, the sooner she sent him the letter, the sooner she'd be able to find something to help her. Muttering to herself about bleach blond prats and superior attitudes, she reluctantly grabbed a quill and some parchment and wrote a quick letter asking for the use of his family's library. She had to fight off a wince as she tied the finished request to her owl's leg, even imagining how unbearable Malfoy would be if he agreed to let her into his home – again – was painful.

* * *

Draco scowled at the paper, _more _attacks by some killer that seemed to be going after people who took prominent roles in the war. As far as he could tell, this murderer was going after both heroes and criminals from the war, anyone who had been prominent in the news before the war was won. That put him and both of his parents in danger. _And Granger_, a tiny voice in his head whispered, but he ignored it; the voices in his head were obviously mental – what that said for his sanity, he wasn't sure.

His breakfast was interrupted by a letter being dropped right on top of the toast he had been eating. The bird sat there innocently, looking at him as if it didn't deserve the scowl he was giving it.

Sighing, Draco handed it his ruined toast. "You might as well have this, now that you've ruined it," he grumbled.

While the owl ate, obviously waiting for a reply, he opened the letter. It seemed that Granger once again needed his assistance, and once again he was going to have to let her into his house or risk being the cause of her death. He was torn; both of his parents were out of the house for the entire weekend on some sort of fifth... or sixth honeymoon. But if he were to help Granger yet again, then he was going to have to start calling in these favours, as it was downright _nice _of him to continue assisting her without expecting any sort of compensation.

He tapped his quill against his mouth as he thought about what to ask of her in exchange for the privilege of using the Malfoy library – and privilege it was, no one outside the family had set foot in that room for centuries, much less someone who was Muggle-born. Countless generations of Malfoys were probably rolling in their graves as he even thought about bringing Granger to his home – yet again.

His quill raced across the parchment as he penned a reluctant permission for the woman to come and do her precious research. He attached it to the leg of the waiting owl and sent it off before he could have second thoughts and snatch it back, replacing his affirmative answer with insults.

It was only minutes later that he heard the bell signalling that someone had Flooed over. He heaved a huge sigh and made his way further into the house to find the woman before she wandered off down one of the more dangerous hallways and got herself killed.

"You owe me. Big time," he said irritably as he entered the room.

Hermione looked up and frowned at the blond man. "You think I don't know that Malfoy? I'm a Gryffindor, and we pay back our favours," she told him with her nose in the air.

Draco dropped his irritated scowl and watched in amusement as she confidently marched past him without a second glance, only to pause and look down both ends of the hallway with a slightly worried look on her face.

"Lost, Granger?" Draco asked, doing his best to hold back a chuckle.

"No!" She snapped. "I just... don't know the way," she admitted, looking down and blushing slightly, hating to admit that once again, she needed his help. It was becoming an irritating pattern of late.

"Follow me," Draco ordered, leading the way and attempting to look like she was taking him away from important business when in reality, he was quite enjoying watching her glare at him out of the corner of his eye.

When they reached the library, Draco dramatically flung the double doors open, earning himself an eye-roll from his companion. "Can you do _anything _without being over-dramatic about it?" She grumbled under her breath.

"Some people are just born with more flair," Draco said arrogantly, glancing at his watch. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an important business endeavour to deal with, I'll be back later." He turned around and went back out of the library with considerably less 'flair' than he had entered with.

Hermione rolled her eyes again as she watched him go, but she quickly turned back to the task at hand and began scanning the shelves for the books she was looking for.

Once she'd located a few promising tomes, she cracked open the first one and sat her cell phone on the table beside her so she wouldn't lose track of the time while she was immersed in the familiar world of print.

Several hours later, when Hermione was finished all but three of the large pile of books she'd amassed, she was beginning to lose hope. She was never going to find the answer, and she was going to die! It had always been a distant possibility before, but as an abstract possibility, she could deal with it, now that it was her destiny, she was starting to break down. Her eyes started to burn as tears began to accumulate in her eyes, getting ready to overflow.

This is how Draco found her. He watched the tears form in her eyes and scowled at her; she better not be about to do what he thought she was about to do. He took a step back when the tears overflowed and ran in streams down her cheeks – he _hated _it when girls cried. They were so _sad _looking, and if they weren't holding onto someone for support while they did it, they seemed to curl into themselves and become smaller, weighed down by whatever was upsetting them. He had yet to see any man manage to do that with quite the same effect as a girl.

The situation was made so much worse by the person currently engaging in waterworks on his floor; this was Granger, the woman who had supplied the majority of the brains behind the downfall of Voldemort, smartest witch of her age and all that, so what was she doing on the floor looking like she'd lost all hope?

That pesky little voice in the back of his head that always seemed to want to be around Granger and want her happy was going crazy; it was telling him to do something insane like sit down there and hug her comfortingly. Malfoys were _not _comforting. Nowhere in his black little heart was there room for _comfort_, that was a Gryffindor impulse, stomped out at a young age in Slytherins – if they were born with it at all. At least that's what he tried to tell himself; the little voice disagreed with him.

Draco let out a big sigh and made a compromise with the little voice. He knelt down an arms distance from the distraught woman and hesitantly reached out a hand to pat her on the back. "It's not all that bad, Granger," he mumbled, trying his hand at this 'comforting' thing.

At the sound of a comforting voice, Hermione unthinkingly threw herself towards the source of comfort, similar to how she would have acted had it been Harry or Ron there for her. Draco however, was not used to this kind of contact with hysterical, crying people. He made a rather undignified squeak sound as Granger threw herself at him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face in his shoulder, and squeezing him tightly, as if that would stem the flow of tears down her face.

Frozen in horror with his arms straight out at his side, Draco sat staring at the woman who was not latched onto him like some kind of barnacle. He was being used like a _teddy _bear!

She didn't look like she was going to stop anytime soon, so he reluctantly wrapped his arms around the busy-haired girl – at the suggestion of the voice of course, not of his own volition... Though she did feel kind of nice there, she was softer than he expected someone with such a bristly personality to be. She also felt awfully small and vulnerable for someone who seemed to want to take all the wrongs in the world onto her own shoulders.

Draco didn't even notice he was rubbing calming circles on her back and smoothing her hair down until her sobbing started to subside and turn into sniffles. He glared down at his hands accusingly, as if it had all been their idea – it certainly hadn't been his.

Hermione's hysterics finally abated, and she realized that she was actually in the arms of Draco Malfoy... and she didn't feel all that inclined to leave them anytime soon. It was comforting and warm there, and he was the only one who knew what she was facing at the moment, the only person who she didn't have to lie to. She let out a big sigh and pressed her face against his neck, realizing – now that her nose was clearing – that he even _smelled _comforting, like crisp outdoors air with a touch of wood smoke. The man smelled like winter, she realized belatedly, mind fogged from her earlier tears.

Exhausted from crying, Hermione was on the verge of nodding off when it finally fully registered that Draco Malfoy was _holding _her and she was _letting _him. She jerked away from him so fast the back of her head hit his nose rather hard. While he was busy swearing and attempting to stem the flow of blood, Hermione snatched her phone from the floor, grabbed the notes she had made and the books she had been using and ran, calling back that she'd owl him his books back as she fled the room.

Draco finally managed to fish his wand out of his pocket and cast a healing spell on his poor nose, grimacing when the broken cartilage pieces grated against each other as they moved back into place. He had been nothing but _nice _to her – something completely out of character for him – and she _broke his nose _in thanks?

Once the immediate danger of choking on his own blood was out of the way, Draco noticed that Granger had taken the books she had been reading with her. Lovely. Now, not only did he have to worry about Father coming home to find out there had been a Muggle-born in his house, but he also had to worry about getting those priceless tomes back into his possession before someone noticed they were gone – not that people were in the Malfoy library with any frequency, but Father seemed to have an uncanny ability to notice when something was out of place in the huge room of books. Draco could only assume this ability to notice things out of place was developed when Draco was a curious toddler, intent on going into the room of books and making forts out of the convenient bricks just lying around the whole room.

He must be going insane, it was the only reason he could think of that he would willingly put him in the presence of the infuriating and surprisingly strong brunette. He surveyed the damage to his shirt, from both his blood and her tears and deemed it beyond repair with a sad shake of his head – it had been one of his favourite shirts too. The cell phone sitting on the table provided a brief distraction; how did it manage to get all the way over there? He snatched it up and left the room in search of a clean shirt.

* * *

Hermione was busy reading the books she had borrowed from Malfoy – without his permission, but that wasn't really her concern at the moment. Too busy to bother worrying about the fact that he had actually been able to comfort her instead of horrify her as the thought of his touch should have. Once she was done with the books, _then _the worry and confusion could set in, she could feel it lurking at the edge of her consciousness, waiting for the smallest distraction to wriggle into her mind and nest there, growing into a whole swarm of distractions that wouldn't let her rest or focus until she'd dealt with them all.

She started when her phone suddenly started ringing. "Hello?" She answered.

"Who's this?" The person on the other end demanded. Hermione's brows drew together; even if it was a wrong number, they could be a little more polite.

"This is Hermione, I think you have the wrong number," she told the rude man, ready to hang up.

"Well, this is Blaise Zabini, and I think you have the wrong phone, I called Draco from my contacts, and it worked fine yesterday." Hermione frowned at this and pulled the phone away from her ear. It looked like it was the same model as hers and everything, but that little scratch in the corner wasn't something she remembered.

"Malfoy can work a cell phone?" She asked disbelievingly.

"Wait a minute, Granger. What are you doing with Draco's cell phone?" Hermione cringed, that was a question she'd really rather not answer at the moment. "Never mind, I'll just go ask him myself, but I suggest you give it back to him quickly, he gets all of his important business calls on the thing." Zabini told her before hanging up. Malfoy had a business? She wondered briefly.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath; she had to go get her phone back before Malfoy managed to cause trouble with hers. She glared at the innocent phone; it was a sign that the universe hated her that she and Malfoy kept being pushed together. Another sigh escaped as she stood up and once again entered her fireplace, bound for the Manor.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**A/N: My first update of 2011! A whole new year...**

**Thanks to arrandomness for betaing this and then rebetaing it when I redid the ending of the chapter. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, etc. I'd sad to say I can't see the charts, which is depressing... I have no way of knowing if you guys are reading this unless you review... *hinthint* **

**I've been doing a lot of work on this story while I'm off school (I typed until my fingers hurt a few days ago). I think I'm almost done writing it, which is exciting and sad at the same time. I've already started another story to fill the space this one will leave in my spare time though, so keep an eye out for it!**

**~Frosty**

Draco was still on his way to his room in search of a new shirt when the damn Floo went off once again. He glanced down at himself and cringed, hoping it wasn't anyone important as he headed to greet the guest as he was.

"What the hell happened to _you_?" Blaise asked when his friend walked into view. "Did Granger mug you and steal your phone?"

Draco gave the other man his best arctic glare. "What are you talking about?" He snapped.

"I just called you, and Granger answered. Also, you're covered in blood."

Suddenly too exhausted to deal with his friend, Draco scrubbed his hands over his face and collapsed in one of the sofas bracketing the fireplace.

"That bad?" Blaise asked, almost sympathetically - he was deriving too much amusement from his friends' distress to be genuinely sympathetic.

"Sod off," Draco muttered without removing his hands from his face, wishing Blaise would just go away and leave him to his misery. He had held Granger while she cried, not something that was in his character to do – at least, not something he'd _thought _was in his character to do.

Had he not been so caught up in his thoughts, Draco would have noticed the roar of the fireplace as yet another person came into the room.

"Granger?" Asked Blaise disbelievingly. Sure, he'd talked to her on Draco's phone, but he would never have thought that the girl would have the nerve to show up at Malfoy Manor unannounced. He quickly glanced around the room, just to make sure nothing had burst into flame at the appearance of a Muggle-born – he wouldn't put something like that past the Malfoys.

"What is it _now _Granger? You have the books – which you better get back to me in one piece," Draco told her. He'd tried for menacing and irritated, but only managed weary and vaguely annoyed.

"Malfoy, you have a cell phone?" She asked him, unable to believe that the Pureblood elitist had sacrificed some of his pride and purchased a Muggle device.

"It's kind of necessary when doing business with Muggles," Draco muttered, trying not to look at Blaise, while knowing that the irritating wanker was watching the entire conversation with rapt attention, and most likely an evil grin.

Hermione was even more surprised to find he'd actually willingly initiated contact with Muggles; it seemed that Malfoy had changed more than most people were willing to give him credit for.

"What does my phone have to do with anything?"

Hermione fished the offending object out of her pocket. "It seems the one you have is the exact same model as mine, and we managed to switch them when..." She trailed off, unable to say 'when I hysterically threw myself at you and then fled in mortification'.

Confused, Draco pulled the phone he had assumed was his from a pocket and examined it. It did seem that it was the wrong phone; that little scratch that had been there since he'd dropped the damn thing the first time it had vibrated at him was gone. He wordlessly held out his hand for Granger to return his phone, nodding thanks as she did before dropping hers in her outstretched hand. Both of them were careful to avoid all physical contact throughout the whole ordeal, and neither of them so much as glanced at the third party in the room.

The second the proper phone was in her possession, Hermione whipped around and fled back into the fireplace, more than eager to escape that huge house and its occupants.

"What was that about?" Blaise asked with an evil grin.

"None of your business! Now, why are you here?" Draco snapped, hoping his so-called 'friend' would just leave him alone to wallow in confusion and irritation.

Blaise pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and solemnly handed it over to his blonde friend. He watched intently while the other man unfolded the delivery.

Draco frowned when he saw what he was holding; he didn't have the patience for this shite today. "Blaise, why did you give me a picture of you in your underwear?" He asked with a weary sigh.

"I want to be an underwear model, but I need you to use your connections in the muggle world to get me the job."

Draco crumpled up the picture and bounced it off the moron's head. "I'm through doing favours and _helping _people! I've been downright _generous _recently, and it's going to ruin my reputation, not to mention my sanity." He snapped.

Blaise titled his head to the side as an evil grin spread across his face. "Does this 'helping' involve 'helping' Granger out of her clothes?"

_I wish_.

Stupid, annoying, _honest _voice! "No! Now get out!" Draco yelled.

Blaise must have sensed that Draco wasn't in the mood to deal with his teasing; he got up and moved to the fireplace. "Just keep telling yourself that," he added, fleeing immediately after in fear of his friend's reaction.

Draco sent a vicious glare in the direction of the fireplace; could Blaise hear the little voice in his head as well? He dismissed that thought immediately as mental, but couldn't help a look of confusion from spreading across his face. If Blaise couldn't hear the voice in his head, then could it be that maybe the little voice wasn't so little? Possibly to the point where the voice's sentiments were reflected in his actions enough that people could pick up on it? _That _was a disturbing thought.

He put his face in his hands and heaved a huge sigh. This was getting complicated. He wasn't _allowed _to be attracted to Granger. He wasn't _supposed _to do nice things for her. He wasn't _able _to ignore her like he should. Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts! He was being ridiculous! Granger was an androgynous being that possessed a head of spectacularly unkempt hair and the shrill voice of a harpy. Yes. That's what she was.

_You can think that all you want, you're not going to believe it any more than you do now._

It seemed the voice drastically underestimated how stubborn Draco could be. Which was strange, considering it was part of him and lived in his brain. Could parts of a brain be out of sync with the rest of it? It seemed like his was... He was determined to remedy this discrepancy within his own head. Maybe Mother would be willing to set him up with another one of those self-centered, airheaded Pureblood heiresses she seemed so set on him dating. Maybe the tedium of watching her fix her hair for the twentieth time would make him realize that she was The One he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Or not, but going out would be a nice distraction. He moved towards the writing desk to pen a letter to his mother asking her to set the date; at least she would be pleased.

* * *

Hermione was mortified that someone had witnessed evidence of her contact with the blonde prat that she had recently been associating with more than was acceptable. On the bright side, at least the witness was someone who wasn't likely to spread what he had witnessed. She had a feeling that Malfoy was perfectly willing to hex the balls off of his friend for telling anyone of his association with a Muggleborn.

Usually when she cried, she felt a little better about whatever problem it was that was looming over her and stressing her out to the point that she burst into helpless tears. This time however, she just felt more hopeless. Hopeless and depressed that Malfoy was the one to comfort her.

What was with that anyway? The frosty blond had never come across as they comforting type. Maybe the violent type, definitely the rich prick type, but comforting wasn't something she would've thought he could be. Strange. Like everything that she couldn't understand, Hermione put this information to the back of her mind, where she could deal with it when she had some spare time.

With a big sigh, she trudged back into her library to tackle the rest of the books Malfoy had unwillingly supplied her with. She thought maybe if she was able to finish reading them quickly, he'd be a little less pissed when she returned them.

After a few hours of scanning the useless books, she was no closer to finding an answer, and now she had to return the sodding things to Malfoy. Lovely, just lovely. Her poor fireplace was probably going to start developing cracks if she kept glaring at it the way she had been for the last five minutes. At least she thought it should, her glares felt like they should have_some_sort of effect on it, otherwise, she might begin to doubt the effectiveness of her stare.

Finally accepting that the fireplace was suffering no ill effects from her facial expression, Hermione grabbed a handful of Floo powder and the stupid, useless books and stepped into the green flames.

* * *

Draco was lounging in the room across from the library when he heard the Floo alarm. More visitors. If it was someone he wanted to talk to, then they would know to come find him, if it wasn't, then the House Elves would eventually get rid of the person. He glanced at the hallway through the open doorway, but no one appeared, so he closed his eyes and leant his head back against the headrest of the sofa, a tumbler of Firewhiskey in his hand. The damn deal that was supposed to go through that day had hit a snag and now he was stuck with unhappy Muggles on all fronts. His nerves were on the edge and he was working on a massive migraine.

If he hadn't been listening for footsteps, he never would have heard the soft little steps in the hallway. A sliver of grey peeked out as he opened his eyes a crack to see who it was trying to sneak. Just what was _she _doing here _again_?

"I can see you trying to sneak," he called, watching in amusement when she started and dropped the handful of books she was obviously trying to sneak back into the library.

Hermione looked from the lounging blond jerk to the books all over the floor and sighed. The world hated her. She gathered all of the books up and slipped into the library, returning them to their rightful places before slipping back out into the hallway and carefully closing the door behind her. Malfoy still hadn't moved from his sprawl across the couch and his eyes were still closed. He looked stressed. Prat. What did he have to be stressed about? What to spend all his money on? What to do in all the years he had left to live?

"Granger," he called; she had finally decided it was best that she just left without saying anything and had attempted to edge away. She rolled her eyes; of _course _it wasn't that easy, she had to endure some harassment before she could get out of his house. He was probably going to yell at her for daring to remove Malfoy property from the premises.

She was starting to feel a little light-headed, but walked into the room where Malfoy was lounging – she at least owed him a little bit of fun harassing her, she'd stolen books that were heirlooms, never mind that she'd also returned them the next day.

"What?" She asked, a little breathier than she'd intended, she was having trouble breathing evenly and her lightheaded-ness was getting worse, everything seemed to be swaying.

Draco opened his eyes at the thinly veiled panic in her voice and looked at her with alarm. Her huge hair was framing a face completely void of colour and she was swaying slightly.

The former Slytherin cursed while lunging forward and catching the annoying woman before she hit the floor. Were her bones hollow or something? She felt a lot lighter than he'd have thought. She looked so peaceful when she wasn't spitting mad at him or crying hysterically he contemplated as he held her maybe a little too close.

Realizing that he'd been holding her a little too long, Draco moved to the couch and gently placed her down on it. Having exhausted his knowledge on what to do in the event of a fainting spell, he settled back into the position he'd been in before she fainted and took a big swig of his drink.

He watched as she regained consciousness and quickly reclaimed her bearings, remembering where she was and who she was with. "I fainted again?" She asked with a little bit of grogginess and a lot of resignation. Fainting seemed to be something she was going to have to get used to.

Draco nodded and wordlessly conjured another glass and filled it with Firewhiskey, passing it to the distraught woman beside him. "Fortification," he told her in answer to the questioning look she gave him.

Nodding in understanding and giving him a small smile of thanks, Hermione drank the whole glass down, spluttering a little when she finished. Malfoy snickered at her, but didn't seem inclined to make fun of her, which was a disturbing change of pace from his regular treatment of her. Now that she thought of it, the majority of her recent interaction with him was a disturbing difference from his usual behaviour.

Draco was just as disturbed with his recent behaviour as she was, possibly more. "Look, Granger. You need to tell your friends about this problem of yours, I can't keep doing these things for you. It's downright _pleasant _of me."

Hermione held out her glass for a refill as she thought about his order – he hadn't said it like it was a suggestion, he expected her to do it. "It's something I'm getting around to," she said evasively as she took another sip and avoided eye contact.

Draco crossed his arms and gave her a disbelieving stare, one eyebrow raised. He sincerely doubted that she was actually thinking about telling her friends, she focused too much on how her problems would upset others and not enough on how others could _help _her with those problems. However, it wasn't really his problem so he chose not to pry anymore unless she passed out or dissolved into tears in his presence again. In the wake of her unbelievable answer, they were plunged into almost comfortable silence as they were both lost in their thoughts.

He had only offered her a drink hoping it would keep her from crying on him again, he wasn't sure he could stop himself from kissing her if she was all over him like that. The strange, unwelcome desire seemed to pop up at random times when he was in her presence, and it was getting more insistent of late.

His effort to avoid that outcome flew out the door when she crawled towards him and attempted to reach over him and grab the bottle of alcohol sitting on the table on the other side of him. It seemed like those two glasses were affecting her more than they should have been, possibly because she had recently passed out, or possibly because she wasn't much of a drinker – either way, she somehow managed to fall in his lap.

Grabbing hold of his shirt, Hermione pulled herself back upright, giggling helplessly at the awkwardness of the situation. She stopped when she caught sight his face; he was giving her the strangest look.

Draco had been trying to keep his mind off of the infuriating Gryffindor for _days_ and now she was practically in his lap while his mind was blurred by alcohol, which wasn't helping with the situation. He tried to tell himself that going through with what he wanted to do would only cause the both of them grief, but the part of his brain that could have done something with that information seemed to have retreated.

She licked her lips, seemingly unsure how to interpret his stare. Lovely, drawing attention to her soft-looking mouth was really helping. Even when she wasn't _trying_ to be she was infuriating... in a completely irresistible way. If he hadn't known that the siren thing didn't work that way, he would have thought that she was calling to him.

Vaguely comforted by the fact that he could later convince himself it was all the alcohol, Draco gave into temptation and quickly leaned forward, capturing her mouth.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**A/N: I know, I know. Mean Frosty, how could you just leave it there! *Grins* I'm sure you'll all be glad to know that I can write kiss scenes without having to close my eyes. Hooray! I did, however, have to roll my eyes several times.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! And to everyone who favourited, etc. Thanks to arrandomness for betaing this!**

**At the moment, the stats page is working... Sort of. But you could still review to let me know what you think?**

**~Frosty**

Hermione tensed up, unsure what to do and bewildered that Malfoy would actually want to initiate any sort of contact with her. One second she was trying to figure out what his expression went, the next his mouth was covering her own. When he started to move his lips against hers, she gave up thinking and relaxed against him, sighing with something akin to contentment.

As soon as she responded, she found herself back in the position she had been in when she regained consciousness, except this time, there was a Malfoy on top of her. The strange part was, she liked him there. A lot. After her initial surprise at the sudden change in position, she went with it and brought her arms up around his neck, moving them over his shoulders and pulling him down closer to her.

His mouth moved down to her neck alternately nipping and sucking. He gave a low chuckle when she threw her head back and gasped as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. His mouth was so distracting that she failed to notice when the hand he wasn't using to hold himself up had somehow found its way to her leg.

When his hand on her thigh started to move upward, it jolted her back into reality. The reality where he was Malfoy and she was Granger and these things weren't allowed to happen. She used all of her strength to push against his chest, causing him to fall off of the couch onto the floor. This was bad.

"What the hell Granger?" Malfoy growled from the floor. He obviously wasn't pleased to have been unceremoniously dumped onto the floor.

She could feel heat rush to her cheeks as they undoubtedly turned bright red in mortification at what she'd done. Her breathing quickened, verging on hyperventilation. Sure he hadn't been up to his usual evil standards _lately_, but underneath it all, he was still Malfoy and she needed to stop forgetting that!

_You know you enjoyed that and will do it again given the chance_, her brain told her. It was such a know-it-all!

Hermione jumped over the back of the couch and backed away from him with wide eyes. This was _very _bad. The kind of bad Harry and Ron could _never _hear about. "I- I have to go," she squeaked as she rushed towards the fireplace, dodging his hand when he reached out to her and ignoring his calls of her name.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she came out into her own flat and slid down the wall beside her fireplace, one had pressed to her lips while the other waved her wand to adjust the wards to keep everyone out. She needed some time alone.

* * *

Draco wanted to bang his head on the wall. Partly because he had given into temptation and listened to the voice when it told him she was attractive, but mostly because she'd just fled. Where was that Gryffindor courage when it would be useful instead of just encouraging her to throw herself into life-threatening situations?

He briefly contemplated going after her, but running after girls who shoved him away was not a Malfoy thing to do. Initiating contact with Muggleborns was not a Malfoy thing to do either! What had he been thinking? He hadn't been thinking with the logical part of his brain, that was for sure.

"Bloody Griffindors," he muttered as he finally picked himself up off of the floor and went in search of a cold shower.

He couldn't help but picture her face before she'd fled. That was a blow to the ego; girls didn't usually _flee_ from him. Scratch that, girls never fled from him, Granger was the first. Then again, she was Granger; she'd never done things like other girls.

The freezing water wasn't much of a distraction from his raging thoughts. Who did she think she was, pushing him away like that? There was no doubt that she had been enjoying their... activities just as much as he was.

The sobering thought of the reaction his parents would have should they ever find out what had just happened between him and a Muggleborn passed through his head briefly, but that wasn't something he wanted to contemplate long, so he shook his head to clear it and stepped out of the shower.

The simple solution would be to never allow anything like that to ever happen again. Ever.

* * *

A week later, he was once again in the shower – though a much warmer one – when he heard a voice call him angrily from somewhere else in the house. He frowned, his parents weren't supposed to be home for a while and his father sounded angry.

Towel around his hips, Draco walked in the direction he guessed the voice had come from, sensing that the time it would take him to get dressed would only anger his father further.

"Draco," the frosty voice of his father met him when he grudgingly walked into the older Malfoy's study.

"Yes, Father?"

"Why is there a book missing from the library?" Draco cringed. He had never been allowed to remove a book from that room, and he knew that neither of his parents ever did either, meaning that Granger still had one at her flat.

"I... know where it is," Draco sighed, rubbing a hand through his dripping hair. Granger was going to pay for this.

Lucius gave him the icy stare that had once reduced Muggles to puddles of pleading goo. "Get. It. Now."

Draco didn't argue, he left the room and headed to the fireplace, only to remember that perhaps clothing might be more appropriate than just a towel.

Having changed clothes and gone through the Floo system, he disappeared in a whoosh of green flame. He was pleased that she hadn't changed the wards to block him out, banging against an invisible wall would have put him in a spectacularly foul mood.

He stumbled out of the fireplace just in time to see the beginning of another one of Granger's fits. She was starting to sway slightly and once again, she turned sheet-white. A pang of genuine worry made itself known in the pit of Draco's stomach as he rushed forward and caught her.

She was going to kill him if she woke up in his arms after making it clear she wanted nothing more to do with him the night before. He needed to put her down, quickly.

"Hermione!" Came synchronised shouts from the kitchen as the rest of the trio rushed into the room to save its fallen member. Grey eye rolled to the ceiling as he gently set the woman on the nearest couch. Wait for it... 5, 4, 3, 2,

"Malfoy!" They both spat, once again at the same time, pulling their wands. It was like they only shared one brain between the two of them – most of it seemed to reside in Potter's skull.

"What did you do to Hermione?" The Weasel demanded, turning a disturbing shade of red.

Draco was actually surprised; Granger was rapidly running out of time, and as moronic as they were, she needed her friends. Now she had him thinking almost complimentary thoughts about the Wonder Twins! Something was seriously wrong with him.

"I didn't do anything to her Potter, give her a minute and she should wake up," Draco snapped, watching the brunette intently for some sign of movement. Whatever the two morons were going to say in response to his truthful statement was interrupted when Granger's eye fluttered open.

"You haven't bloody told them yet?" Draco demanded angrily, not quite sure why he was so upset with her; _he _shouldn't care whether she lived or died, right? But it seemed he did, rather a lot, actually.

"Told us what?" The boy-with-the-annoying-hero-complex demanded, looking from Draco to Granger and back again.

"She's not human," Draco snapped, glaring at the still pale brunette on the couch. When he looked back to Potter, he found a wand in his face.

"Take that back, Malfoy! Just because she's Muggle-born doesn't make her not human!" Draco was taken aback by Potter's reaction. What was he on about? His eyes widened slightly as he realized what Potter assumed he was saying.

"Don't get your knickers all in a twist Potter; I'm over that blood purity nonsense. She's actually not human," he tried to clarify, but it seemed to make Scarhead even angrier.

"Harry!" Granger snapped from the couch. "He's not insulting me; I'm really not entirely human!" She seemed to be as fed up with Potter's quick – and _wrong_– conclusions as Draco was getting.

Harry looked from his friend to the blond ferret that had actually seemed to help her, possibly even show genuine concern for her well-being. "Explain," he told the two of them, holding Ron back from attacking the blond. He was referring to both the news and the strange interaction between the two of them. Hermione didn't seem at all surprised to wake up with Malfoy leaning over her, and that warranted an explanation.

Draco looked longingly to the fireplace, but the look Potter and Weasley were giving him made it very clear that they weren't going to let him escape until they had an explanation that their tiny little minds could be content with. He slowly made his way into the kitchen, making it clear he didn't plan to escape. He started opening cupboards and rifling through the contents there.

"Malfoy, what the _hell _are you doing?" The comedic relief portion of the trio demanded, obviously fed up with being ignored like the unimportant person he was.

"Fortification," Draco muttered, continuing to rifle though cupboards. He would have ignored the idiot, but he had a feeling that the Weasel would have been persistent with the stupid questions.

"Cupboard above the fridge," Hermione called absently, thinking she might need some as well – provided Harry and Ron stayed to make sure things didn't get... out of hand like they had last time.

Malfoy retrieved the bottle of Firewhiskey that she kept – mostly for guests – and brought it back to the sofa with him. He sprawled out on the opposite end from Hermione, careful not to get too close, and conjured two glasses. "Are you going to sit like civilised people, or are you going to loom over us like a pair of miffed cattle?" He finally demanded without looking at either of the other men, he was focused on pouring a generous amount of liquid into both glasses.

Hermione was impressed Harry and Ron both listened to what the blond suggested and sat in the chairs. Malfoy being there after what happened last night was mortifying, and she wanted nothing more than to run and hide, but his presence in the face of her friend's anger was oddly comforting. When the blonde handed her the second glass he had been pouring, Harry and Ron both lunged to their feet, as if to save her from poison or something.

She hesitantly took the glass from his hand, noting the way he refused to look at her and glad for it; eye contact would be too uncomfortable. Alcohol obviously wasn't something they should consume in the presence of the other, but with Harry and Ron hovering over them and jumping to their feet at the tiniest interaction between her and the former Slytherin, she felt one glass wouldn't hurt.

"Sit back down," she ordered sharply. Her eyes narrowed when neither of them listened to her. How come they did what Malfoy told them even though they hated him, but they completely ignored her, when they were supposed to be her friends? It wasn't _fair_- not that much in her life had been fair recently.

Ron crossed his arms and scowled at Malfoy while Harry stepped forward and started pacing in front of the sofa. "Hermione, we've been worried about you lately, you've been hiding out in your apartment and avoiding everyone for a while now," Harry explained, not pausing in his pacing.

Hermione hesitated, unsure of where to start. To stall for time, she took a big drink of the Firewhiskey that she'd been holding with a death-grip since Malfoy had handed it to her. Swallowing and looking back up at her friends, she opened her mouth to say something... but nothing came out. She just wasn't sure where to start or what to tell them.

Noticing her hesitation, Draco rolled his eyes; this was ridiculous. He had places to be, an angry father waiting for the return of the book that was still sitting innocently on the mantle, and a business to run! He didn't have _time _for this type of nonsense. Not to mention the situation was frightfully similar to the incident with Granger earlier in the week and it was making him distinctly uncomfortable – primarily because he wouldn't mind a repeat, minus the being shoved onto the floor thing and that was _bad._ He shouldn't want anything to do with her!

"I'm... um... well – that is," Granger so eloquently started. He raised an eyebrow at her when she shot him a desperate look; was Granger actually asking him for help? Yes, yes she was. Her eyes were most definitely pleading with him to say something. He found himself unable to resist her pleading face.

"She's going to keep fainting like she just did until she doesn't wake up and will eventually die on her birthday. This is because she's not human and needs to find a body of water or something." He waved his hand in the air nonchalantly, giving the impression that he didn't really care either way.

Hermione wasn't sure whether it was because she'd been spending way too much time with him recently or if he was having a bad day, but she noticed the slight tightening around Malfoy's eyes at the mention of her death. Was it possible he was actually concerned about her?

Harry had gone pale and Ron had turned even redder, looking furious.

"Liar!" Ron shouted, lunging forward with his wand raised, ready to do some damage to the man who dared to claim Hermione was in danger.

Harry grabbed his friend under the armpits and heaved him into the nearest chair, conjuring ropes and tying him there. "Sorry Ron, but I actually want to get to the bottom of this without having to worry about stopping you from killing Malfoy," Harry muttered as he turned once again to face Hermione and Malfoy.

Before Harry could even open his mouth, Malfoy found it necessary to add his own comment. "Potter, you missed his mouth, we can still hear him," he complained. An evil smirk spread across the slimy bastard's face as he watched the enraged redhead try and escape his bindings and tackle him. Harry scowled at him and silenced Ron with a warning look.

None of them had been paying attention to Hermione, who had been growing more and more distressed as she realized just how dire her situation was. Tears were welling in her eyes and threatening to spill over before she even noticed they were there. Furious with herself for her weakness, she wiped angrily at her eyes and held out her glass to Malfoy for a refill.

Draco glanced over at her when her glass came into his field of vision. What he saw tore at his heart; she looked so desolate and scared, but at the same time, determined. "Granger," he sighed sadly, knowing she wouldn't want any comfort from him, and not sure he wanted to deal with the implications of actually offering it to her.

His uttering of their friends' name brought the attention of the bickering pair back to Hermione. Harry immediately rushed forward to hug her, but she stopped him with a look.

"I need to explain before you can comfort me, otherwise I'll just end up crying uselessly," she explained apologetically.

Harry nodded in understanding and motioned for her to explain. Ron had gone quiet and was watching her intently, also waiting for her explanation. "Malfoy wasn't lying, it's all true," she said sadly, deciding that blunt was probably the best way to tackle her explanation.

Harry frowned at everyone in the room; his hero complex was kicking in with a vengeance and he wasn't sure how to help his distressed friend. He wasn't about to make Hermione repeat anything, when he had a rough idea what was going on – from Malfoy of all people – since it was obviously distressing her. He gently took the glass from her hand and hugged her, ignoring the strange look Malfoy was giving him.

"Hermione, you can't just disappear for weeks on end, not with that vigilante group taking people who fought in the war," Harry scolded into her bushy hair as she clung to him. He felt more than saw the tiny nod she gave in answer.

"This is all very touching and any number of other nauseating Gryffindor things, but I should be getting back; I'm going to have to hex someone after all of this touchy feely shite. Thanks for the drink Granger." Malfoy grabbed the book off of the mantle, and disappeared into the fireplace.

Harry moved as if to go after him, seemingly genuinely worried that he was going to hex someone, but Hermione stopped him.

"Don't pay attention to him Harry, he's just making himself feel better about not making me feel worse," she explained, surprised that she understood what was going through that twisted blond head of his.

"You're stressed Hermione, you need a break," Harry said worriedly when she let go of him.

"Bloody right she's stressed; she just had _Malfoy _in her flat and didn't hex him." Ron added from his chair, still struggling against the spell Harry had placed on him. Harry noticed this and waved his wand to free the redhead. Hermione rolled her eyes at the two of them, but smiled, she had missed them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**A/N: *nosewrinkle* So much SNOW! *sigh* And there's more coming. As a consolation for the weather, here's a chapter!**

**Originally, I had left her talk with Harry and Ron as it was in the last chapter and moved on, but some people said they were excited about the confrontation, so I felt bad for leaving it out... I put a little snippet in this chapter to make up for it.**

**As always, thanks to arrandomness for being a wonderful beta reader! And thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and alerted! **

**~Frosty**

"Hermione!" Luna said happily, drawing the other woman into the house with a hug.

"Hi Luna," Hermione said with a big smile. It was the day of Luna's housewarming party, and Hermione was taking the opportunity to take a little break from all the stress of looking through books. Ron had been right, she was willingly drinking with Malfoy – again, after how poorly it had gone the last time they had both been under the influence of alcohol together, she needed a break.

Neville walked into the room, smiling at Hermione and the other guests entering behind her. There was a brief period of hugs all around before they made their way out to the garden, where Luna had set a lovely table for everyone to enjoy their lunch at.

"Hermione, I have something for you," Luna told her happily as she settled into the seat beside the brunette. Hermione was feeling a little bit light headed, so she was doing her best to sit and smile like she wasn't feeling like passing out, she didn't want to worry her friends.

"What is it?"

Luna walked into the house for a second before coming back out with a pair of expensive looking men's shoes.

"Luna..." She started, unsure if she wanted to ask, but having a dreadful feeling she knew where those shoes had come from.

"I think you know where these belong, I found them outside the restaurant we ate at a while ago," the blond said with her usual dreamy smile.

Ginny chose just that moment to plop into the seat on the other side of Hermione, dragging Harry behind her. "Hermione, Harry won't tell me what you're keeping from us!" She hissed, poking the brunette in the ribs. "Does this have something to do with Malfoy?"

Hermione winced at the reminder of the unpleasant conversation she'd had with her friends after Malfoy had left.

"_Why is it you've told _Malfoy_ about your dire health but not your best friends?" Harry asked for what felt like the hundredth time. She could only keep giving him the same answer for so long before she snapped and just kicked the two of them out of her flat._

_She took a deep, calming breath before she answered. "I didn't tell him anything, he told me what was wrong with me."_

"_So you expect us to believe that Draco Malfoy did something nice for you, a Muggleborn, when there was nothing in it for him?" Ron's lack of faith in Malfoy would've been insulting if she hadn't known the blonde while he was in school. He wasn't that person anymore and Ron needed to understand that people could – and did - change._

"_He caught me when I fell. There was nothing in it for him, and he still risked my Mudblood contamination to stop me from getting hurt. Does that sound like the Malfoy you know from school?" Both her friends flinched a little when she called herself a Mudblood, but they knew not to argue the small things when she was in this kind of mood._

"_If you trust him, I can... avoid voicing my doubts about him," Harry said reluctantly, ignoring the outraged look on Ron's face. "But if he puts _one_ foot out of line, I'll come up with a reason to throw the git in Azkaban."_

_Hermione smiled at her friend and gave him a hug. Ron still looked irritated, but at Hermione's glare over Harry's shoulder, he nodded his agreement to Harry's terms and held out his arms for a hug as well._

Another, harder poke in her ribs brought Hermione back to the present. "Hermione! I asked if this had something to do with Malfoy?" The redhead tried again, more insistently. The girl was worse than the gossip columnists that had been harassing the Golden Trio for years!

The brunette looked away from all of her friends, towards the dense plants not far in the distance. She didn't want to answer the redhead's questions because she knew Ginny would start giving her the same worried, pitying look Ron and Harry had been giving her ever since they'd found out about the Naiad thing. They'd been hovering near her whenever they caught sight of her, as if she was going to collapse – which was entirely possible, but she wasn't used to being treated like glass. Hermione was used to fighting alongside her friends, not being coddled! They were stifling her as they tried to protect her.

Hermione banished the shoes Luna had handed her back to her flat, and stood up. "I'm going for a walk," she muttered, heading off into the lovely garden Luna and Neville had cultivated. She was supposed to get away from home to spend some time forgetting her problems, not explaining everything to a whole new group of people. Harry and Ron knew what was going on, she had told them everything and that was enough. They were treating her like a porcelain doll, and she wouldn't be able to stand it if everyone started treating her that way.

She wandered what seemed like a path through the fields of plants that surrounded the house for as far as the eye could see. Lost in her thoughts, Hermione failed to notice that she was getting deeper and deeper into the field, and the plants were getting taller and taller, until they were well over her head.

Hearing a twig snap somewhere in the distance, Hermione suddenly became aware of how dark it was getting. For just after noon in the late summer, it was awfully dark. Glancing around, she realized that the sun was blocked out by large, sharp edged leaves. The path behind her seemed to have disappeared, and when she tried to push her way back through the way she had come, the leaves took slices out of her hands and arms.

She pulled out her wand and tried to blast her way through them, but the plants grew back as fast as she could destroy them. Heart pounding and still feeling a little light-headed, Hermione turned and faced the only clear path through the plants. It seemed she could only go forward, not back.

Taking a quick steadying breath and glancing wearily over her should one more time to make sure the plants hadn't decided that she could go back after all, Hermione walked the way the foliage seemed to be herding her – she could only hope she wasn't headed to something more dangerous than sharp plants.

The smell of stagnant water began to draw her attention through the panic she was feeling. She paused for a second, once again glancing wearily at the sharp plants behind her, but they had closed off the path and formed a solid wall behind her, but there they stopped; they seemed to have pushed her to wherever they'd wanted her to go.

Shrugging, Hermione continued to walk, noticing that the smell was getting stronger as she continued to move forward.

The leaves she was walking on crunched loudly into the disturbingly complete silence that had surrounded her since she had stopped fleeing the plants. The clearing she was walking into was completely empty and huge, with a slight dip in the middle and a bed of brown leaves, but that didn't explain where the smell of stagnant water was coming from.

Hermione took another step towards the middle of the clearing, and screeched as she felt cold, slimy water soaking through her shoe.

Looking down in confusion and annoyance, Hermione gasped. Laid out before her was the source of the stagnant smell, there was suddenly a lake taking up almost the entire clearing. It was full of seaweed and dead plants and appeared to be completely devoid of life.

Despite its appearance, Hermione was curious; why would there be some sort of spell hiding something like this lake? Why would someone waste the energy to cast the spell? It made sense that this lake was somehow important, but there was no way it could be the one she was looking for, that would be too easy.

As she reached for her wand to dry her shoe, Hermione moved her hand enough to cause one of her scratches to reopen and drip a few drops of blood into the lake. Suddenly, the dead, stagnant water was gone, replaced with lively, clear water full of small fish and surrounded by frogs and bugs. The whole clearing was suddenly alive with life.

The lake seemed to be lit from within and it was calling to her. Unable to resist, Hermione slipped off her shoes and dove into the clear liquid, relishing in the cool feel of the water on her skin, heated from her trek through the field.

As she swam, it seemed like every bubble was caressing her as they made their way to the sunlit surface. The first gasp of air she took as she broke the surface seemed to completely rejuvenate her. Hermione knew that she wasn't going to have fainting spells anymore, and her birthday was no longer going to be something she had to fear.

As she floated on her back near the middle of the lake, Hermione noticed something bright white out of the corner of her eye. Turning and treading water, she stared in awe at a large white manor with many windows sparking in the sun. There was only a small stretch of perfectly manicured lawn between the lake and a side wall of the structure.

She waded out of the water and walked across the grass to the door. There was a big, gold knocker in the shape of a snake with emeralds for eyes in the middle of the huge double doors. At least the gold kept it from being entirely Slytherin.

The intimidating door creaked open and a small House Elf peeked out at her with shock. "You is here!" It exclaimed happily, grabbing her hand and dragging her into the room.

"We is waiting for yous for decades!" Another elf yelled as it came running excitedly into the room.

Hermione was quickly surrounded by overexcited elves, all of them exclaiming that they'd been waiting for her. She watched, bewildered, as they brought her dry clothes, and her protests were ignored as she was dragged by the hand up an impressive staircase into an extravagant bedroom with a huge four poster bed facing a wall made up almost entirely of windows.

She stared in awe out the windows, almost forgetting that she was dripping all over the expensive looking antique hardwood floors. A chill drew her attention back to her wet state, so Hermione shucked her clothes off and put on the robes the elves had supplied her with, they were more formal and frilly than anything she would have worn by choice, but they were very soft and made of a light, flowing material that seemed almost like it wasn't there.

Her wet clothes disappeared the second they were on the floor, and Hermione made a mental note to have a talk with these elves about alternative options to their enslavement. She was about to exit into the hallway in search of the elves when a silver stag flew through the window and landed in front of her.

"Hermione! Where are you?" Harry's frantic voice came out of the incorporeal animal. With her birthday so close, him and Ron had been watching her every movement like hawks, looking for any hint that she was going to pass out and never awaken. She was glad that worry would no longer be necessary.

She glanced down at her watch; she'd only been gone for... five hours? Somewhere between her walk and the lake, it seemed that she'd lost quite a large chunk of time. Everyone must be beside themselves!

An elf popped into existence right in front of her. "There are people in the forest looking for yous. They getting all cut up from the plants. You want us to let them in?"

"No, I'm going to go out and meet – what's wrong?" Halfway through her sentence the poor elf started tearing up.

"You just got here and now yous is leaving again!" The little creature wailed, grabbing Hermione around the knees and burying its face in the no-doubt expensive robes she had been supplied with.

"This isn't the Delamater Manor, is it?" She asked wearily.

The elf nodded eagerly. "This is Delamater Manor and yous is a Delamater, else you never would have been let in!" It said excitedly, tears forgotten.

"I promise I'll come back here, but I have to go tell my friends I'm okay." Hermione said determinedly before apparating away.

She popped into existence into the middle of Luna's yard. "Hermione!" A streak of red yelled as it crushed her in a hug.

"Ginny!" Hermione laughed, trying to wriggle out of the other girl's grasp so that she'd be able to breathe.

"We were so worried! Where did you go? The boys are still looking for you," Ginny rambled off, too fast for Hermione to catch. Then she was once again a streak of red as she darted off in the direction of the path.

"Harry, Ron, Neville, she's back!" Ginny screeched, at an ear popping decibel, causing Hermione to flinch and the boys to come running out of the foliage.

"Where were you?" Harry demanded, looking both relieved that she was fine, but annoyed that she had disappeared without a word and worried them.

Hermione grinned hugely at him. "I found what I've been looking for."

Harry and Ron's eyes widened before the both tackled her, glad that their friend was no longer in danger. They didn't say it, but they were probably also glad that Hermione didn't need to go anywhere near Malfoy anymore.

Of course Ginny harassed them all, demanding to know what was going on and where Hermione got the robes she was wearing, but the trio kept silent, knowing their redheaded friend had a tendency to gossip and they didn't want it spread around about Hermione's heritage; they'd all had more than enough publicity for several lifetimes.

The rest of the housewarming party passed in a blur of laughter and relief for Hermione. She may have overindulged a little bit with the wine, but that was probably because Ginny seemed to be intent on keeping her friend's glass full - probably in hopes that the alcohol would loosen Hermione's tongue and get her to blab about the secret that she was keeping from everyone.

Apparating into her flat after the party, Hermione stumbled over something sitting on the floor in her entranceway. Her balance was already compromised, so she ended up sitting on her butt and glaring at the offending object.

"Stupid Malfoy's shoes," she muttered, slurring slightly. She kicked them over against the wall where she wouldn't trip over them again. "Even his _shoes _are evil. That's probably why he wanted them back so badly; it's hard to find genuinely evil shoes."

She spent an extra minute glaring at the evil shoes before she crawled over to the sofa and used it to pull herself back onto her feet.

Once standing, she tottered over to her writing desk in the library and messily scrawled a quick note.

_Malfoy,_

_Your bloody evil shoes nearly killed me. Luna had them the whole time, now they're lurking in my damn entranceway lying in wait for when I let my guard down. Come and get them before I'm forced to retaliate; they won't survive._

She didn't bother to sign or read over the note, just tied it to the waiting owl and sent it off, hoping he came to get the shoes before they tried to kill her in her sleep or something.

* * *

Draco tiredly ran his hand through his hair and sighed as he stared at the paperwork in front of him. The stuff was never-ending; he'd been sitting in his desk scowling at it for hours as he filled out the endless pile.

A tapping at the window drew his attention away from the stressful rectangles. His eyebrows drew together as he read the letter, then he burst out laughing, continuing until he needed the help of a chair to hold him up. What in the world was going on with Granger? She sounded insane.

Concerned for his favourite pair of shoes, and eager to make fun of the brunette's apparent bout of insanity, Draco grabbed a handful of Floo powder and called out Granger's address. He was intent to retrieve his footwear before she found it necessary to 'retaliate' against the defenceless things.

**A/N 2: ****Congratulations to Loslote for guessing the Manor was next to Luna's new house way back in chapter 6! *bigeyes* Was I too obvious or are you just a good guesser?**

**~Frosty**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**A/N: Ugh. I had an idea for what should happen here last night as I was about to go to sleep, but I chose sleep instead of writing it down and now it's gone. *sigh* I think it turned out okay, but I know the scene I've forgotten would have been better.**

**Okay, for those of you thinking Hermione and Draco would slowly grow closer as they worked on a project together, I considered it, but thought this way would be better. Looming death tends to make it less fun, and I didn't want the story to get too heavy. Don't worry though, I'm not going to leave it there! Hermione and Draco still have issues to sort out!**

**I've read the next several chapters over so many times for content that they could have everyone turn into ducks and act out Shakespeare and it would seem to make perfect sense to me. So if there's anything that doesn't seem to fit quite right, feel free to ask me what the heck's going on...**

**As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed. Hooray! Over 100 reviews! You guys are great. Also, thanks to arrandomness for being a wonderful beta and fixing all kinds of mistakes. I think this chapter is probably my favourite... I hope you guys like it! I know I've been kind of sporadic about my updates, but I'm excited about this chapter...**

**~Frosty**

He frowned when the fireplace spat him out into Granger's flat. Where was that woman?

Glancing around the room for her, Draco stumbled over something large and soft. Ah, there she was. A stab of worry made itself known in his chest as he quickly knelt down beside her to see if she was alright.

"Granger?" He asked, gently shaking her shoulder.

He was relieved when she groaned and feebly swatted at his hand, trying to make him leave her alone. Not unconscious then, just sleeping on the floor.

Slipping an arm around her back and one behind her knees, he picked her up and made his way towards her bedroom.

"I always knew you Gryffindors were a little barmy," he told her quietly, knowing she was too out of it to be listening.

"The shoes are waiting until I let my guard down," she mumbled into his chest, apparently more awake than he had previously thought.

He chuckled quietly; for someone so smart, Granger could be as loopy as Lovegood. "Don't worry; I've saved you from the evil shoes, though you have bigger things to be worrying about than - why are you smiling?"

He had been about to scold her on staying focused and finding that lake to avoid _death _rather than worry about footwear, but a big smile broke out on her face and confused him.

"You're worried about me," she told him, still with that annoying smile on her face. He was about to deny any feelings of concern for her, but she ignored his sound of protest and continued. "You don't have to though, I found it today."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise before he schooled his face into an expression of careful neutrality. He felt more relief at her little revelation than he would have believed possible, it seemed her approaching death had been weighing on him more than he'd thought. "Congratulations," he mumbled, letting go of her and watching her fall to the bed and bounce a few times.

The motion seemed to make her nauseous, she was looking a little green by the time she had come to rest in her bed. Before she had even regained her bearings from the fall, Draco was heading out of her bedroom.

"Malfoy?" She called. He stopped, but didn't turn to look, only tilted his head to show he was listening. "Can you tell Emerence that I'm not going to die?" Her voice was starting to sound half-asleep; it seemed her little rest on the floor hadn't been very restful at all. Draco gave a stiff nod before leaving the room, grabbing his shoes and then Flooing home again.

He had a lot to think about; his reaction to Granger's continued existence wasn't the vague annoyance he was expecting, it was a huge relief. Almost like he _cared_, possibly even that he had grown _fond _of her. He shuddered at the notion. No. That wasn't possible... Was it?

He thought back to his past interactions with her. Going on actions alone, it seemed like they were almost _friends_. What was he getting himself into?

* * *

Hermione woke up from confusing dreams about lakes, shoes, and a certain blond with a massive headache. The headache only got worse when she realized that her dreams were actually _memories _from the previous day. She groaned and hid her face in her hands; Malfoy had once again done something uncharacteristically nice and carried her to her bed. Her only comfort was that he probably wouldn't tell people about what had happened last night because then he would have to explain that he'd done something nice, and that would be too humiliating for him.

"Does Mistress want a hangover potion?" A squeaky voice asked quietly, causing Hermione to scream and fall out of her bed.

The elf tentatively approached the groaning lump of war hero on the floor beside the bed, holding out the previously offered potion.

With a hand pressed firmly on her forehead in an attempt to calm them pounding going on inside her skull, Hermione carefully cracked an eye open so she could take the potion from the elf.

Once she had downed it and was starting to feel like coherent thoughts could form without causing her pain, she opened both eyes and got up from the floor, turning to face the elf.

"You're the one I met in the Delamater Manor yesterday."

The elf nodded vigorously, causing her ears to flap around as she fingered the hem of her pillowcase dress. "I came to get the Mistress and bring her back to her new home," she told her, looking around her bedroom distastefully.

Hermione paused, new home? She remembered reading somewhere that the old Manors belonging to magical families only had to magically accept a descendant of the original master of the household for it to magically and legally belong to the descendant. Huh. It seemed she wasn't going to have to pay rent anymore.

As Hermione had been staring off into space and remembering some of the archaic Pureblood laws she'd read a while ago, the elf had started packing Hermione's clothes into boxes, clicking it's tongue in disapproval over her wardrobe. Lovely, her wardrobe was being judged by a creature wearing a _pillowcase_.

Speaking of wearing a pillowcase... "If I'm the owner of the house, does that mean I have the power to free you House Elves?"

The elf turned to her in horror, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "You is angry with Patsy?"

"No, it's not-"

"Then why you want to free me?" The elf asked hysterically, with tears now running down her face.

"I don't believe in enslavement." Hermione said firmly, only causing the elf to cry harder.

"Mistress doesn't want us!"

Hermione sighed. "I do want you; I just want to pay you for your services."

The elf looked disturbed at the notion. "No. Now Mistress is going to come home and Mistress is going to let Patsy and other elves take care of her like they is meant to!"

With a snap of her fingers, Patsy had everything in the apartment worth keeping packed into boxes. Another snap and the boxes were all gone, presumably to the Manor. She then crossed her arms and stood staring at Hermione harshly.

Hermione sighed; it figured that she would get the one House Elf with a backbone. She made a mental note to have a similar conversation with the other elves later.

"Do you know the address so I can Floo in?" Hermione asked. The elf nodded and recited the address.

"Only you can Floo in, other people will hit wards," the elf told her after.

"I'll have to change those then," Hermione said, mostly to herself as she made her way to the fireplace, taking one last look around her empty looking flat.

The grand fireplace she came out of on the other side was nothing like the small and practical one Hermione had kept in her flat. But the Manor had very few things in common with Hermione's previous home. The Delamater Manor was huge and expensively decorated with furniture that _matched_, a novelty for Hermione, who had been living in an apartment that was furnished when she moved in – furnished by someone who was obviously colour blind.

"Patsy is head elf here, and Mistress is forbidden to try and free the other elves, it will only make them cry." The small elf told Hermione firmly, interrupting the awed look the brunette had been directing around the sitting room she had Flooed into.

Hermione was forced to nod, but determined to find a way around this order; they all needed to at least be _offered _freedom. Her nod seemed to be enough for Patsy, for she continued.

"This is the key to the Delamater Gringotts vault, Mistress is free to use it, the money is hers now. If yous get lost, just yell for help, or ask one of the paintings. Is there anything Patsy can get you?"

Hermione shook her head no, still staring at the key the elf had handed her. Patsy blinked out of existence, leaving Hermione to figure out her own way around the Manor.

* * *

Four days later, Hermione was still getting lost in the huge place. She had been so wrapped up with trying to free the elves, talking with portraits of generations past, and attempting to find her way from the lavish bedroom she slept in to the dining room where the elves insisted on feeding her large, formal dinners that she completely forgot to inform her friends that she had changed her address.

Cringing a little at the reaction they were probably going to have about her going missing for four days, Hermione stood by the fireplace in her bedroom holding Floo powder in her hand and telling herself they probably weren't _too _mad at her. Taking a deep breath, she threw the powder into the flames, quickly following it.

"Hello?" She called, looking around the house Harry shared with Ginny.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, looking pale and worn.

"What's wrong?" Hermione demanded.

"I'm just tired, I've been interrogating Malfoy all night, because he was the last one to see _you _according to your wards and you've been gone for _days_." Harry accused, causing her to pale.

"You didn't... hurt him, did you?" She asked tentatively, aware that the interrogation laws at the ministry were a little lax when it came to _how _they got their answers.

"Of course not." Harry snapped. "Where have you been? The Prophet has been printing missing articles, we thought Voldemort supporters had taken you or that vigilante group!"

"My lake came with a Manor, the head House Elf insisted I come and live with them. Telling someone where I was going kind of got lost in the excitement and confusion of it all."

"This isn't like you Hermione, you're usually so responsible." Harry scolded, disappointed in his friend, she had been making a lot of people worry recently.

Hermione hung her head. "I know Harry, and I'm sorry. Here's my address if you forgive me and want to visit." She tentatively held out a piece of paper, unsure if he was going to take it. She felt a rush of relief when Harry snatched the piece of paper from her.

"I'll tell everyone you're all right, but first, we should go tell them to let Malfoy free. They've been holding him for questioning for two days now, and he's pretty pissed."

Harry led the way to the fireplace and they Flooed to the Ministry. As an Auror, Harry was frequently walking the halls of the place and knew his way around. Hermione just followed him silently, knowing Malfoy must have worked up a towering rage after two days imprisonment for something he didn't do.

They found Malfoy sitting in an interrogation room with a dark scowl on his face. He didn't notice Hermione right away. "Potter, I told you, I have no idea where Granger is, now let me free!" The blond snarled viciously the second he set eyes on Harry.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I know you didn't do it, she just Flooed into my house," Harry muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Hermione knew the exact second the Malfoy noticed her, his arctic eyes practically froze her in place, accusing her for not coming forward sooner.

"And where was Miss Granger hiding that she didn't have access to a single newspaper outlining my arrest and questioning?" Malfoy asked dangerously, advancing on her in a way that made Harry take a step forward, putting himself in front of her as his hand moved to his wand.

Annoyed with his overprotective tendencies, Hermione moved Harry to the side and faced the angry blond in front of her. "A House Elf came and insisted I move into the Delamater Manor, and I forgot to tell anyone where I was going." She didn't bother with excuses; she really was entirely at fault.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed further and he advanced towards her. Harry moved to intervene, but Hermione waved him off; she was fine, Malfoy just needed to feel intimidating and blow off some steam. He wasn't going to hurt her.

He stopped centimetres away from her and used his superior height to an advantage, glaring down at her. Hermione didn't blink as the blond suddenly grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

"Why the bloody _fucking _hell wouldn't you have just told someone where you were? People were worried! _I _was dragged into this godforsaken place and spent _days _with Potter over there harassing me for answers! I had better things to do than-" His rant cut short as Hermione brought her hands up to rest on top of his, where they were still shaking her shoulders.

"I'm sorry." She told him honestly, looking up into his face so he could see her sincerity.

His scowl remained in place as he contemplated her apology for a few beats, then he ripped his hands away from her and took a few steps back, turning away from the other people in the room.

Harry and Hermione both watched as he raked his hands through his already messy hair. "Fine," they heard him sigh. "Get me out of here."

Harry stepped away from the door and watched as the other man swept out of the room without looking back.

"What the hell is going on with you two? I thought he was going to try and snap you in half and then you apologise and he doesn't even seem _mad _anymore?" Harry was pacing and ranting, and Hermione just watched him. Like Malfoy, Harry needed to let out some steam. She knew that a large part of Harry's anger was stemming from his worry for her, so she let him rant.

Harry seemed to have worn out his yelling and was looking at her for answers.

"He's not so bad, Harry." Hermione told him quietly.

"How is he _not bad_? He was a Death Eater!" He exclaimed, waving his arms around for emphasis.

Instead of answering, Hermione asked him a question. "Did you get him to tell you what he did while he was at my apartment when he last saw me?"

"No." Harry said, looking annoyed. "He refused to tell us even with Veritaserum, said it was 'within his rights to keep his business his own.'"

"And you assumed all manner of vile things, didn't you?" She demanded, hands on her hips. This was Harry's problem, he refused to believe that people could be more than the image they presented; he was a big fan of face-value.

Harry nodded and crossed his arms, getting defensive. "What _was _he doing there and why wouldn't he tell?"

"I'll tell you, but if you even breathe a word of what I tell you to anyone, I swear I'll hunt you down and hex your balls off –literally, I came across this interesting curse while I was researching and I'm interested to see if the description was accurate." Harry unconsciously shifted a hand over his privates, but he nodded wearily.

"No, actually swear," Hermione prodded. A nod wasn't enough, she wanted actual verbal confirmation; she wasn't about to let Harry say something to embarrass Malfoy when the man had only done something nice.

"I swear I won't tell anyone," Harry said grudgingly.

"Well, when I went to Luna's she gave me his shoes and told me to return them for her," here Harry looked like he was about to question her, but she waved him off. "That's another story, you don't want to know. Now, when he showed up to get his shoes that night, I was a little..."

"Completely intoxicated?" Harry tried, remembering the condition she'd been in when she left Luna's party.

Hermione blushed and looked down. "Yah, that – which was entirely Ginny's fault. Anyway, by the time I'd sent him and owl and he showed up to get his shoes back, I was asleep on the floor."

She paused, contemplating whether she should explain _why _she'd been on the floor, but then dismissed the thought; the less people who knew about her drunken lapse in sanity, the better. So she glossed over the reasons and continued with her story.

"He picked me up off the floor, put me in my bed, and left with his shoes."

Harry just stared at her, disbelieving. "Malfoy did something _nice_?"

"Well, he did drop me into the bed, which wasn't fun at all since the room was already spinning, but yes, he did something nice."

Hermione frowned at her friend when he gave her a hard stare, as if he was trying to figure out why Malfoy would do something so out of character and help her.

"If he didn't do anything wrong, then why couldn't he just _tell _us what he'd done?" Harry demanded.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Isn't it obvious? He didn't want it to get out that he's not as bad as he likes people to think. Would you have believed him if he'd told you exactly what I've just told you?"

"No, probably not. I would've assumed he'd found some way to get around the Veritaserum." Harry answered truthfully.

"Exactly. Now let's go tell everyone I'm not dead and Malfoy didn't do anything wrong." Hermione said briskly, done with the conversation. She led the way out of the room, Harry following behind her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**A/N: As always, thanks to arrandomness for betaing!**

**I know, I've been updating quite frequently... It's because I've got a bunch of chapters finished, only waiting to be read over and a few small changes and I don't like just letting them **_**sit**_** there... **

**I like making Narcissa someone who harasses her son more than making her someone who's stuck up and glaring all the time... She's just more fun to write that way.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys are the best! I was quite excited to see that this story had over 120 reviews! Also thanks to everyone who favourited/alerted both this story and/or me!**

**~Frosty**

"So... You're secretly related to a really old line of Purebloods that's died out and you've inherited their fortune, Manor, and servants?" Ginny asked. Hermione nodded, having just finished explaining where she'd gone when she'd disappeared.

"Okay!" Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione was confused. "Okay what?"

"Of _course_ I'd love to come for a visit. Right. Now." Ginny announced.

"Okay?" Hermione said. She was a little worried about the gleam in Ginny's eyes as she announced her intentions to visit, but she wasn't about to turn the woman away, particularly after all the grief she'd been causing her friends recently.

"Can we Floo there?" The redhead asked, already bouncing over to the fireplace.

"Uh huh, I altered the wards when I got there so you guys can visit me whenever you want." Hermione told her with amusement, watching her friend's excitement.

"Harry! I'm going to snoop- I mean _visit_ Hermione's new house!" Ginny announced, throwing the handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and dragging the brunette in behind her without waiting for an answer.

Ginny was off the second she set foot inside the house. "This place is _huge_!" Her voice echoed down the hallway behind her as she disappeared from sight.

"Are yous going to be having guests for dinner, Mistress?" Patsy asked, sounding excited and startling Hermione; she hadn't heard the elf appear.

"Probably. You'd better make enough for three, I'm betting Harry's going to have to come retrieve her," Hermione said, already heading out of the room. She was hoping to find Ginny before the girl was too far away.

A strange, gonging sound echoed throughout the house before she could even get out of the room. Patsy popped into existence right in front of her, looking excited again.

"Mistress, it seems you have a visitor. Should Patsy go let them in?" The elf questioned.

Hermione nodded hesitantly, wondering who would come visit her by going to the gate when she'd given her address to everyone who would visit her and altered the wards to let them through the gates. If they didn't Floo in, her friends would be able to get through the gate and knock on the front door.

Patsy disappeared, leaving Hermione to pace the hallway and fret about who could be visiting her.

She heard the elf and her guest before she could see them. "Right this way Lady Malfoy," Patsy said, coming around the corner with her guest.

To Hermione's complete disbelief, Narcissa Malfoy followed the elf around the corner. Why was she visiting? Was it to chew her out for getting her son detained for a few days? Hermione cringed; it wasn't like she didn't deserve to be yelled at for getting Malfoy detained, but she wasn't looking forward to it.

If she was here because of her son, then why the big smile?

"Hello!" Mrs. Malfoy said with a happy smile that disturbed Hermione to no end; the woman was supposed to be acting disgusted, not _pleasant_. "I'm Narcissa Malfoy, but you can call me Cissa. Lovely to meet you," she said, holding her hand out to shake.

Hermione was unsure about the reason for the visit, but she wasn't going to be impolite. "I'm Her-"

"Imagine my surprise when I find there's another Manor not far from my own home! I just had to come over and introduce myself." She stopped and looked Hermione up and down. "Are you married?"

Confused, Hermione shook her head.

"Lovely!" She actually clapped her hands in delight. What happened to the vague distaste directed to everyone she meets? Or the Malfoy stoicism?

"I have a son about your age, you should meet him. He's a wonderful boy on the inside, but he needs a woman to bring out his softer personality facets. He takes after his father really, all hard and angry on the outside, but a real sweet-heart on the inside."

Hermione could only nod as the woman kept going on and _on_, not leaving any room for her to get a word in edgewise. She knew Malfoy would be mortified if he knew his mother was telling complete strangers this kind of thing about him.

Narcissa went on talking for almost twenty minutes before there was another knock at the door. The blond woman's eyes widened and she clapped her hands again. "That must be Draco now, I told him to come remind me when it was time for my outing with Lucius."

"Should Patsy let him in?" Pasty asked, appearing in front of the two women. At Hermione's nod, she disappeared.

"Remember, he's a sweet-heart on the _inside_." Narcissa said, just as Malfoy walked into view.

He immediately frowned when he caught sight of the two women standing in the hall.

"Draco dear!" Narcissa exclaimed, throwing herself at her son and hugging him. "This is..." She looked confused, trying to remember if Hermione had introduced herself.

"I know who she is Mother," Malfoy sighed.

Narcissa looked delighted. "She's not married Draco," she whispered to her son, causing Hermione to fight against the laughter that bubbled up at the expression on his face.

"Mother, Father is waiting for you," Malfoy ground out through his clenched teeth; he was obviously fighting against yelling at his mother.

"Oh! He probably is." She turned to face Hermione. "I should go, Lucius gets so upset when I'm late," the blond woman whispered to Hermione. "It was lovely meeting you," she called as she hurried towards the door.

Hermione and Draco stared after the blonde woman until she was out of sight. Unable to stifle it any longer, Hermione burst into hysterical laughter, leaning on the wall to support herself.

"You will tell no one about whatever she said to you," Malfoy said threateningly, moving forward to loom over her. "And don't you _ever _disappear like that again." He added as an afterthought.

Hermione pushed off from the wall and stood up to him. "You don't scare me Malfoy; I know your angry exterior is hiding a sweet-heart on the inside." She chose to ignore the second order, she had come to the conclusion that, like Harry, Malfoy had actually been worried about her and lashed out when he found out she'd worried him because of her carelessness.

He seemed to deflate at her comment, groaning as he stepped away from her and sagged against the opposite wall. "Can we just pretend whatever Mother said to you never happened?"

"I think it's nice that she worries about you like that. She wants you to find someone." Hermione said.

"No, she wants me to give her some grandchildren, there's a difference. She wouldn't have even brought it up if she'd known you were Muggleborn."

Hermione visibly flinched, that one stung a little. She'd thought he was over that kind of thing, and it hurt to be reminded that someone she'd come to almost... _like…_thought of her as inherently inferior.

Draco berated himself as he realized his mistake. "Granger..." He started, unsure what he should say.

"I think you should go," she said, her voice void of the teasing tone that had warmed him earlier. She was magnetic when she smiled, it was impossible to stay away from her, and now he was to blame for the hurt in her eyes.

When he didn't leave immediately, she turned away from him and started to walk in the direction Ginny had disappeared. He could show himself out.

"Granger, wait! I didn't mean it like that," he called after her, but she didn't stop. She didn't want to face him at the moment; he shouldn't have been able to hurt her like that with an offhand comment. But he had, meaning she was in trouble.

When he saw that she was intent on ignoring her, Draco ran after her, catching her wrist and pulling her back. She struggled to get free, but he was much stronger than her, he didn't have much trouble turning her back against the wall and keeping her there with an arm on either side of her head.

She stopped trying to escape him, knowing it was futile until he'd had his say. Draco leaned his head down until he was nose to nose with the infuriating brunette. "Gr-Hermione. What is your _problem_?"

"I..." Hermione was actually at a loss for words. She was having a flashback to that night at Malfoy manor. Maybe if he took a step back she'd be able to form coherent sentences. She tried to push him back a bit, but he wasn't budging.

"Blood doesn't mean anything; it's just that my parents don't think quite the same as I do." He closed the rest of the distance between them and pressed a quick kiss on her lips. "Would I do that if I thought of you as something bad?" He asked.

Hermione's frown disappeared, replaced by a knowing smile. She knew he hadn't really done anything wrong, the problem was hers. It was shockingly easy for him to hurt her, but it seemed that it was almost as easy for him to make her feel better. "You really are a sweet-heart on the inside."

He was about to protest, but she stopped him by kissing him.

* * *

Ginny had made an exciting discovery and was trying to find Hermione to show her when she heard something.

"Granger, wait! I didn't mean it like that," someone yelled. Someone that sounded an awful lot like Malfoy. What was _he _doing in Hermione's new house?

She watched as he caught her and then trapped poor Hermione against the wall. Furious, Ginny was about to go hex him into next week, when a voice stopped her.

"Give them a moment. He's not going to hurt her."

Ginny looked down at the painting that had insisted she take it out of the closet and bring her to Hermione.

"And how would you know," she checked the little plaque at the bottom of the frame, "Emerence?"

"Just watch," the painted woman that looked an awful lot like Hermione insisted. Ginny wasn't sure why she should believe a painting, but Hermione didn't seem like she was scared of Malfoy or anything, and the redhead could be there in a second if he tried to hurt her friend.

Ginny's jaw nearly hit the floor when Malfoy leaned a little closer and pecked her friend on the mouth. She nearly fell over when Hermione threw her arms around his neck and snogged him right there in the hallway.

"I told you." Emerence said smugly, able to see what was happening from her frame.

"How long has _that_ been going on?" Ginny whispered to the painting she was holding.

"I don't know exactly, but aren't they perfect together?" Emerence sighed wistfully. "One of them is going to realize who they're with any second now and when they try to run, you have to stop them. I need to talk to the two of them together."

"How do you know one of them is going to run?" The redhead asked.

"One of them _always_ runs; they're running as fast as they can away from each other, but they keep getting pulled back together."

They both watched as Malfoy stumbled back a few steps and stared silently at Hermione for a second before turning on his heel and walking quickly towards the door.

"See?" The painting said, smug again. "Stop him!"

"Freeze Malfoy!" Ginny yelled, jumping around the corner so she was in plain sight.

The retreating blond stopped and turned back to regard the Weasley, an eyebrow raised in question. It wasn't easy, but he didn't let any of his panic at having been caught snogging Granger show.

"Yes Weasley?" He asked, thinly hiding his irritation at having his... strategic retreat interrupted.

"Emerence said she needs to talk to the two of you together," Ginny said, holding up the painting, who waved.

"Emerence!" Hermione gasped, walking forward.

"Hello Hermione, it's nice to actually speak to you instead of having to jump around like a maniac," Emerence said, nose wrinkled in distaste, but eyes sparkling with amusement.

Draco was getting more and more impatient by the second. He needed to get _out_ of there before he did something he'd later regret, like stop caring that it would never work between him and Granger and resume snogging her. "Look, I have places to be. What was it you wanted?"

Emerence and Hermione both looked at him with identical looks of irritation. "I just wanted to tell the two of you that no matter how much you run, you'll keep being dragged back together, it's fate."

Draco rolled his eyes. "If that's all, I'm going to go now," he snapped, once again turning and leaving, this time actually making it out the door.

"Hermione, my painting was in a closet when Ginny found me. Would you mind putting me on a wall?" Emerence asked hopefully.

Hermione smiled warmly. "Of course, that dog portrait in my room never shuts up with its barking. You can replace him."

Taking the portrait from her redheaded friend, Hermione made her way to her bedroom.

"Don't think this means you don't have to explain what just happened!" Ginny yelled, running to catch up to her friend.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione muttered, looking away as she climbed the stairs to the third floor, where her room was.

"Hermione, it looked like you were attempting to eat his face!" The older woman blushed and cringed a little at the picture she must have made for her poor friend.

"There's no chance you can just forget what you saw?" She asked hopefully. "What if I promise it's never going to happen again?"

Emerence snorted at that, but Hermione ignored her. She was determined to avoid another repeat of that day's events. Malfoy shouldn't have been able to accidently hurt her like he had, letting him get to her like that was only asking to be hurt again.

Ginny refused to forget what she'd seen and continued to batter Hermione with questions as they approached her room. Before she'd even opened her door, they could all hear the dog painting barking. Who would want a picture of a dog that never stopped barking? It was extremely aggravating, particularly when trying to sleep.

Hermione took the annoying painting down with relish, handing it to Ginny to hide it in the closet where she'd found Emerence.

"This is _much_ better; I even have a view out those wonderful windows." Emerence said once her painting was secured on the wall and Ginny had disappeared to stash the dog in Emerence's closet.

"You know, you should stop fighting it. I see the way you are together, and you're both making yourselves miserable when you don't have to be." Emerence announced.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione said, refusing to make eye contact with the annoying painting.

Emerence sighed, but didn't say anything; there was no point trying to tell the girl something she was so determined to deny.

"Hermione, Harry's come to retrieve me! We're going to sit down for dinner and have a _discussion_!" Hermione heard Ginny call up the stairs to her.

"Why do I have to have the difficult friends?" She asked no one in particular before going downstairs to face her doom.

Harry spent the entire meal confused as he watched Ginny ask Hermione cryptic questions and Hermione glance at him frantically before telling the redhead to shut up. By the end of the evening, Ginny was pouting because Hermione completely refused to give her whatever answers she was looking for.

Then, after Harry and Ginny had gone home, Hermione trudged upstairs and collapsed into her bed, exhausted.

* * *

Hermione woke up with a jolt when she felt something strange happen to the wards surrounding her house. The wards were still in place, but someone had somehow managed to break through them.

She grabbed her wand and jumped out of bed to go investigate what was happening.

"Hermione, don't go out there!" Emerence warned from the wall, seemingly also aware of the state of the wards.

"I'm just going to see what-" Hermione was interrupted by an explosion that caused her door to blast in, narrowly missing her.

Two hooded men barged in and disarmed her before she could react.

"I don't see what's so important about this one, she's just one little Mudblood." One of the men grumbled, pointing his wand at the helpless brunette.

Hermione was more terrified than she'd been since the war ended. Who were these men and why were they in her house? "What do you want with me?" She demanded, doing her best to keep the scared tremble out of her voice and failing.

The men ignored her question. "I told you, we want her because the press had a field day when she went on vacation without telling anyone. Imagine the publicity it'd get if she disappeared with a struggle and then turns up dead."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror and understanding. She took an unconscious step back; these men were part of that vigilante group? They were going to kill her?

The men noticed her movement, their attention focused back onto her. One of them knocked her out while his partner went around the room smashing and blasting things, making it look like there'd been a battle in the room. Done with the room and its occupant, both men turned towards the doorway and waited.

Emerence's eyes widened in understanding when a House Elf appeared in the doorway, glancing behind it to make sure it wasn't followed. House Elves used a different kind of magic that the wards didn't protect against.

It grabbed hold of the unconscious woman and disappeared, popping back a second later for the two men.

Emerence could only watch in horror as they took Hermione away. She was frozen in panic until they had all disappeared from her sight, then she rushed to do something. Her only other painting was in Malfoy Manor, she just hoped she could get help in time.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**A/N: Shameless-promotion-of-my-new-story time! It's called 'This Incarnation' and it's the reason this chapter is posted so soon after the last one... You should read it, you really should *nods* yep. **

**Many thanks to arrandomness for betaing this chapter!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Also thanks to everyone who alerted and favourited both me and this story!**

**I hope this chapter clears up the confusion about Emerence's words in the last chapter...**

**~Frosty**

Draco was scowling at paperwork – again. He had a fortune of his own; he really didn't need to work. And yet, he spent so much time aggravated over his blasted job. He seriously considered looking into getting a seat on the Wizengamot, something he could slack off doing and no one would say anything.

He had moved on to contemplating retiring early and moving somewhere tropical before he dismissed the idea – his fair skin wouldn't do well in tropical sun. Groaning, he gave up on the paperwork and headed towards the kitchen, where he was hoping he could get the elves to make him a midnight snack... even though it was a few hours after midnight.

Draco was walking down the hallway when he passed the portrait of Emerence and noticed she was waving frantically at him.

"I'm not in the mood for charades right now. Go talk to Granger; you're not silenced in her house." Draco moved to keep walking past her, but the look of desperation on her face stopped him; she looked so much like Granger and he couldn't just walk away from her distress.

He sighed. "Fine. What is it this time?"

She seemed to contemplate how to mime what she wanted to say before using her hands to mess up her hair. Draco got it immediately, smirking slightly. "Granger."

She nodded before pausing again to figure out her next move. She mimed falling over and Draco groaned, feeling another one of those annoying stabs of worry. "She's passing out again?"

The tiny woman shook her head and mimed casting a spell, then mimed the other person falling over, stunned. Draco was starting to feel very concerned for the bushy-haired former Gryffindor.

"Where is Granger's house are you hanging?"

She mimed sleeping. "Bedroom?" He asked, receiving a nod in response.

"I'll meet you there and you can just _tell_ me." He didn't wait to see what the painting would mime in answer to that before leaving.

Draco walked quickly to the nearest fireplace and Flooed to the Delamater Manor. A helpful painting on the wall directed him to the master bedroom – something he planned on having some words about to Granger, it wasn't safe to have paintings directing strange men to their mistresses bedroom in the middle of the night.

He didn't have any trouble finding which room it was once he arrived at the right hallway; it was the doorway with scorch marks around the frame and no door.

Emerence didn't even wait until he'd spotted her on the wall, the second he was inside the room; she frantically started related what was happening. "Two men got through the wards by getting a House Elf to bring them in, blasted the door in, and stunned Hermione. They took her somewhere and her wand is over there under the bed! She doesn't have any way to defend herself!" She was getting more and more high pitched, but Draco wasn't listening anymore; he already had the story. He fished Hermione's wand out from under her bed and raced back to the fireplace.

He grabbed a handful of Floo powder and called out an address he never thought he'd ever have any desire to visit. "Potter!" He yelled, glad that Potter didn't ward against his friend's fireplace.

He watched as the man came running down the stairs in a bathrobe with his wand out, ready to confront the intruder.

"_Malfoy_?" He asked disbelievingly. "What the _hell_ are you doing in my house in the middle –"

"Stuff it Potter, we've got more important things to worry about than the improbability of my presence in your house. Granger's been kidnapped."

Draco watched as Potter decided whether to believe him or not. He seemed to be leaning toward ignoring the warning and hexing Draco when the Weaslette appeared at the top of the stairs in a nightgown.

"What's going on here?"

"Malfoy says Hermione's been kidnapped." Ginny looked sharply at her boyfriend.

"Well, why aren't you _doing _anything?" She demanded.

"I'm not sure whether to believe him."

"Why would he _lie_?" She demanded, hands on her hips. "Get over your petty hatred of him and go find Hermione!"

"Do you know where their hideout is?" Draco asked hopefully; maybe this whole thing could end quickly.

Harry shook his head. "We've got some leads, but nothing for sure. Ron was following one tonight, he should be back at the office now. Come on." Harry moved towards the fireplace, but Draco stopped him.

"Potter. Robe."

"Right." Harry rushed back up the stairs to find some pants, leaving Ginny and Draco alone in the room.

"Stop staring at me like that!" Draco snapped after a minute, unable to bear the look the redhead was giving him.

"Stop pretending you're not worried sick about Hermione."

"What good would _that_ do?" Since when had worrying about someone helped anything? Admitting he was worried would be admitting he _cared_, and that would just be something someone could use against him.

"So you _are_ worried!" She exclaimed triumphantly, though giving him a sympathetic look.

"Don't you have more important things to worry about whether or not I'm worried?" Draco asked, slightly irritated by her apparent lack of concern.

"It's her coping mechanism to be annoying, she's freaking out inside," Potter announced, coming back into the room. "Let's go."

Once again he led the way to the fireplace, but this time he was fully clothed.

"We have to find Ron," Potter explained when they got to the Ministry.

Draco was actually surprised; was Potter just going to accept his help finding his precious friend? He didn't have much time to contemplate this, they were running through the halls of the virtually empty Ministry.

"Harry, just in time, I have a report for- what's _Malfoy _doing here?" The redhead sneered as the other two entered his office. Well, maybe they weren't going to just let him help.

"Shut up about Malfoy, he's here to help. Hermione's been kidnapped and we're going to need everyone we can get." Potter spoke up, intervening before Weasley could make more of an ass of himself.

Draco watched as the Weasel paled, making his freckles even more obvious.

"We have four possible locations for their base, but we don't have the staff to send someone out to them separately. We're going to have to check all of them ourselves." Potter announced, taking charge in the obnoxious way he was so fond of.

* * *

When she regained consciousness, Hermione found herself alone in a cold room. Why couldn't the villains ever keep the prisoner in a nice, warm room?

Getting to her feet, she winced a little when she found that all of her muscles were stiff from the cold and her inactivity.

There were no windows in her room, but she could see the shadow of someone shuffling under the crack below the door. Great, she had a guard.

_Now would be a really good time for those Naiad powers to kick in_. She hesitantly tried to use her voice the way she'd have used her wand, but it didn't work. The books had said it was something instinctual, not a conscious action, but it'd been worth a try.

Of _course_ it didn't work, that would be too convenient, too _easy_. First the Naiad thing, now _this; _fate seemed to get some sort of sick amusement out of casting her in the damsel-in-distress role, which was frustrating for someone as strong-willed as Hermione.

She paced the perimeter of the room, hoping there was some sort of secret door to lead her outside. No such luck, but that would have been too easy as well.

Hermione was quickly over the try-to-escape phase, and the panic phase, and had moved on to the mind-numbing boredom stage. She was sitting on the floor with her knees to her chest and her arms around them for warmth, facing the door, when there was an explosion that shook the foundations of the building.

Jumping to her feet, the brunette ran over to the door to ask what was happening, just as someone from the other side blasted the door in. Hermione let out a small squeak as a large piece of wood lodged in her shoulder, but she didn't cry out; she wasn't sure who was going to be coming through the door and didn't want to alert them to her presence.

"Weasley, you _moron_! What if she's on the other side of that door? She probably looks like a _pincushion_ now!" A very familiar voice snarled. Hermione sagged against the nearest wall in relief, help was coming.

Footsteps approached and she slid down the wall to rest on the ground, the pain in her shoulder was too much, she was barely conscious.

As the footsteps finally got to the ruined doorway, Hermione whimpered in pain, unable to hold the bubble of sound trapped inside her anymore.

When the wave of agony passed and she was able to open her eyes, she looked up to find Harry and Ron staring at her with rapt attention. Her pain fogged mind was unable to process what had happened. "Harry, Ron? What's wrong with you?"

"If I were to hazard a guess," Malfoy said, stepping around the statue-like pair. "I'd say Potter's brain exploded." He concluded, waving his hand in front of Harry's face. "The Weasel seems normal though," he told her, waving his hand in front of Ron's equally vacant face.

Hermione started to panic. She was hurt, possibly severely, and something was wrong with Harry and Ron. Something nagged at the back of her mind, telling her Malfoy's unaffected state was significant in some way, but she was too preoccupied with everything else to pay any attention to it.

Her breaths were becoming increasingly shallow from her panic and her pain, until her vision started to darken around the edges.

"Granger?" A worried voice followed her into unconsciousness; it seemed he'd finally noticed that she wasn't all right. "Hermione!" Then everything went black.

* * *

The first thing she became conscious of was someone squeezing her hand. Cracking open an eye Hermione looked at Ginny in confusion, the redhead's eyes were sparking with unshed tears. "Why are you crying Ginny?"

She watched as her friend's head whipped up to look at her. "Hermione! You're awake!" Then the redhead burst into tears in earnest.

Hermione could only watch her friend with confusion. "You sound like that's a surprise." At the look on Ginny's face, Hermione could tell that it actually was.

"It was bad for a while, you'd lost a lot of blood before they got you here and the Healers weren't sure that you were going to wake up."

Hermione's eyes widened at this revelation; she'd almost died? She didn't _feel_ like she'd almost died, she felt like she'd taken a long, relaxing nap.

Harry and Ron burst into the room, having heard Ginny's yell. "She's all right?"

For the next few hours, Hermione was mauled by her friends as they all came to make sure she was actually going to be fine. The feeling of having woken up from a restful sleep faded as the painkillers she was on did, leaving her cranky and in pain, but alive.

Everyone seemed to disappear for dinner around the same time, all except for Ginny, who hadn't left her bedside.

"What is it, Ginny?" Hermione asked, knowing there was a reason her redheaded friend had lingered.

"When you get out of here... you should go see Malfoy."

Hermione didn't say anything, but she raised her eyebrows in question.

"After you passed out, he noticed the big piece of wood sticking out of you, and brought you straight to St. Mungos. I know he's usually pale, but when I got here he was completely white and all of the hospital staff were avoiding him and looking scared. I don't know what he did, but whatever it was, you've had the best care possible." Ginny paused, seemingly unsure if she should add something.

"What aren't you telling me?" Hermione asked.

"What happened that made Harry and Ron freeze like that? They wouldn't tell me..."

As Hermione realized the implications of Malfoy being the only one unaffected by her voice, all of the blood drained out of her face and felt like it joined several important internal organs down by her feet. "It can't be," she whispered, horrified.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling sick again?" Ginny asked frantically, noticing the colour of her friend.

"No, not sick, just... destined for Malfoy apparently." Ginny was shooed out of the room by a well-meaning Healer who had caught the look on Hermione's face and taken it for queasiness before she could question her friend further. She forced Hermione to drink a sleeping potion, watching as the brunette swallowed the foul-tasting drink before she left the room again.

That explained all of the cryptic remarks about fate Emerence had been spouting. How had the painting noticed it before the participants had? Emerence had gone through all of this before; maybe that was why she knew... In too much pain to fight the sleeping potion, Hermione surrendered to unconsciousness; she could worry when she was healed.

* * *

She was released from the hospital a few days later. Harry and Ron had been worried that she'd feel unsafe in her own house, but Hermione had reminded them that she is a logical being, and as such, is fully aware that her kidnappers had played with a loop-hole in her wards. All she had to do was remedy that loop-hole and she would be able to sleep easy knowing she's safe.

This was a lie, of course. Nightmares she hadn't had since before Voldemort was killed had been resurfacing as she tried to sleep in the hospital, but she didn't want to worry her friends.

As she stood in her bedroom with her hands on her hips, contemplating the spectacular repair job the elves had done on the blasted door and ruined room, Emerence spoke up from the wall. "You know he's the one, don't you?"

Hermione didn't bother to ask what she was talking about, they both knew she did. She just gave a stiff nod.

"You're not done fighting it, are you?" The painting asked with a resigned sigh. She released another one when she received a head shake.

"You're going to avoid him now?"

"How did you know?" Hermione questioned.

"It's what I would have done in the same situation, and we're quite alike in some respects. You _can't_ avoid him; fate will draw you together again." Emerence said smugly.

"I can try." Hermione told her firmly. She wasn't ready to acknowledge the tiny little spark inside her that belonged to Malfoy, let alone accept that there was no one else she'd ever be happy with.

Maybe there was some alternative answer? It wasn't like she'd exhausted _every_ source there was on Naiads. As a family with Naiad blood, the Delamater library was bound to have more information on the subject than she was able to find elsewhere.

Content that she'd be able to find some loop-hole or alternative answer, Hermione moved on to another topic that she had been dying to ask the painting about but couldn't seem to find the time for.

"Emerence, tell me about your life."

The painting gave her a stern look. "I tried to do almost the same thing you're doing. I ignored the fact that the man I married wasn't the one I was supposed to be with and tried to live a normal life."

"Did it work?" Hermione asked hopefully, already knowing the answer but trying anyway.

"You know it didn't. I was only married to Aristio Malfoy for a few months when a Muggle man from a nearby village somehow managed to get onto the grounds." She sighed wistfully as she remembered. "He was so handsome, and I was drawn to him. I knew what would happen if we were together, and still I kept seeing him."

Hermione listened with sadness in her eyes; Emerence had been through a lot.

"We ran away together, and we were happy. I never tried going back to Malfoy Manor because I knew that they would've exiled me. I didn't even dare return to the wizarding world."

A small smile appeared on Hermione's lips. "I can't imagine any Malfoy dealing with rejection well."

Brought back to the present, Emerence turned her full attention once again to the woman in front of her. "I didn't even realize something was missing in my life until I met my Howard. You need to try harder with this Draco of yours." She said sternly.

"He's not _mine_." Hermione muttered, moving towards her bed.

"Yet." Emerence's answer followed her into sleep, haunting her dreams that night.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**A/N: 15 chapters! This is officially the longest story I've written! Exciting, isn't it?**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You guys are the best! You know who else is the best? arrandomness for betaing this! Also, thanks to everyone who favourited and alerted both me and this sotry!**

**Yes, Canada. No one ever seems to come to Canada in the stories I read. (This will make sense later).**

**Don't forget I've got a new story... You might want to check it out.**

**~Frosty**

"You're not going to be able to research him away," Emerence told her the next morning. At Hermione's glare she huffed.

"I know you're going to try it, and it's not going to work."

Hermione ignored the painting and headed right to the library, knowing an elf would find her there and bring her breakfast. She had resigned herself to the fact that none of them wanted any pay _or_ any clothing, and had settled for getting them all fancy new pillowcases and tea towels – whatever they chose to wear in the place of actual clothing.

She made sure to encourage the elves to talk amongst themselves as they went about their tasks, she refused to make them work in the terrified silence she had witnessed in other places. It was nice to be able to hear their voices in a house that would otherwise have been big and echoing.

Sadly, there was nothing Hermione could do for the elf that had helped kidnap her, the two men were sent to Azkaban and the House Elf that had assisted them had been placed in a modified cell in the same corridor of the prison. Had it still been enslaved, there may have been hope for the elf, but it was free, choosing to do bad things of its own volition. Even magical creatures were susceptible to the corruption those horrible men had spread.

She was only an hour into her research when, instead of a quiet pop and the appearance of a tray of food, the door banged open – the poor doors around Hermione seemed to be taking quite a beating.

"Malfoy?" She asked in confusion. Maybe Emerence was right and fate -

"Emerence led me to believe that you were in trouble again."

Hermione made a mental note to dispose of the meddling portrait.

"No, everything's fine," she told him with fake happiness.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's with you?"

"Nothing," she answered immediately, leaving no doubt that it was actually something.

Draco watched her evasive look and took in the books she had surrounded herself in. All of them seemed to be about Naiads. That pesky worrying feeling was back again – masking emotions was one thing, but disposing of them was something much more difficult. "You're not dying again, are you?"

"No, it's nothing like that," she reassured, a little touched by the concern she knew was under the surface of his careless remark.

He smirked; so it _was_ something. She seemed to realize that she'd indirectly admitted there was something bothering her, because she scowled at him. All that time with Potty and Weasel had probably made her used to people who couldn't keep up.

Not wanting to pass up the chance to settle his curiosity _and _annoy her, Draco flopped down in the chair across from her. "Come on, Hermione, I can keep a secret," he wheedled.

Her head snapped up when he called her by her first name, but she didn't comment, it was probably some kind of trick. That was fine; she could play his game as well. "It's not fear of you telling people that's keeping me from telling you, _Draco_."

She put extra emphasis on his name to let him know that she didn't care that he'd suddenly decided to drop the formality of last names in favour of the more intimate given names.

"Come on, I rushed over here to save the day and all that rubbish, and I don't even get this as a consolation prize?"

Hermione wasn't listening to him; she had found a teeny, tiny loop-hole in the book she'd been scanning. "Malfoy, any chance you're gay?"

He actually sputtered at her. Was she _insane_? When, in both the times he'd snogged her had she gotten the idea that he could be _gay_? Indignant, he was about to respond, when she interrupted him.

"I'll take that as a no." She sighed. "Never mind, it was just a thought."

"You _thought_ I was gay?" He demanded irritably.

"No, but you weren't affected by my song and Harry and Ron were; if you'd been gay, then you wouldn't be-" She cut herself off, seeming to have realized that she'd said too much. A frown wrinkle formed between her eyebrows; she was going to have to be more careful what she absentmindedly said to him, he was better at putting two and two together and coming up with the five she was talking about than most of her friends could ever be.

"Now you _have_ to tell me what's going on. If I wasn't so secure in my masculinity, I'd be worried that girls think I'm gay."

She was unimpressed by his logic and chose not to comment, instead, she ignored him and continued reading her book.

Draco did _not _take well to being ignored. He was someone used to attention, and being _ignored_ made him irritated. _Very _irritated. "I saved your life, _twice_. You owe me an explanation, particularly if it concerns me."

There. There was no way she could argue with that.

She looked away, knowing he wasn't going to like her explanation. Grabbing a book on Naiads, she flipped it open to the chapter on the destined partners and slid the book over to him, waiting for the explosion. It wasn't a long paragraph that he needed to read, so the silence the room fell under didn't stretch too long – though it was excruciating all the same.

"How long have you known this?" He ground out when he was finished reading. She was _destined_ for him? That was just moronic. He was going to spend his time with whoever he wanted, destiny or otherwise. No one got to tell him what to do – unless Mother was in one of her moods – and fate wasn't going to break that record.

"I've known I had a destined person since that first day in the library when you gave me that book. Two of the pages were stuck together, so I guess you didn't notice it. I've only known it was you since you rescued me."

"So you're not going to _die_ or anything if I never speak to you again?"

Hermione was actually a little hurt; he was planning on never speaking to her again? She stifled the hurt, annoyed with herself. She _didn't care_. Nothing bad would happen if she never saw the infuriating blonde again! In fact, it would probably be _better_ that she avoided him.

"Nothing that dramatic; according to the books, you're just the person best suited to me. Emerence seems to think that fate will intervene if we try to be with other people, but I don't believe that."

He nodded sharply, not quite looking at her. She obviously didn't want him there, and if she was going to go to such great measures to never have to be with him, then he would help her with the process.

"Well, I vote we prove destiny wrong. There's no way we're meant to be together or any nonsense like that."

Hermione forced a smile, knowing that it probably looked like a grimace. "I second that."

With another nod, Draco left Delamater Manor, determined to never come back, and to never think of the intelligent, infuriating, wonderful woman who lived there again.

* * *

The second she felt Draco leave the wards, Hermione stormed out of the library, ready to give that painting a piece of her mind.

"Did he declare his undying love for you?" Emerence asked excitedly. It seemed that all the time she'd spent in a closet had addled her tiny painted brain. What part of the interactions between the two of them that she'd witnessed had led her to believe that Draco Malfoy would rush over and 'declare his undying love'?

"No, he declared we're going to prove destiny wrong and left."

Emerence started to laugh, as if she thought Hermione was joking, but saw her expression and realized she was serious. "You can't, it's fate!" she said, distressed.

"Emerence! It's not fate when you're doing it, it's just you being meddlesome!" Hermione snapped, still a little irritated about Emerence's interference.

The painting put her nose in the air. "I'm an agent of fate."

"No you're not! You're just a busybody!"

Hermione would never admit it, but she wasn't really all that angry with the painting, she was actually hurt, and taking it out on the easiest target. She made her way over to the bed and fell into it, staring at the canopy.

"I need a vacation," she moaned.

"You don't have a job," Emerence called from the other side of the room.

"Then I need a vacation from my vacation!" Hermione snapped. "Maybe I'll get a job, something with a _lot_ of research.

"Hermione, you can't just bury your problems in research!"

Hermione sat up to look at the painting. "Why not? It's always worked before."

"It won't solve anything! You can't just avoid your problems with books!"

"Watch me."

* * *

Draco had never been fond of people telling him what to do. A little part of his mind was telling him that life with Hermione wouldn't be so bad, but he smothered that part with his annoyance.

He didn't know how, but this whole mess was _her_ fault entirely. If he hadn't had some sort of lapse in judgment because _she_ was in danger, he never would have- what? He never would have... cared for her? No! He didn't.

Draco came into the sitting room, an angry flush on his usually pale cheeks. He grabbed an expensive looking vase and whipped it at the wall.

Narcissa jumped, dropping the book she'd been reading. "Is something bothering you?" She calmly asked the enraged blonde.

"No, I just thought I'd start destroying priceless heirlooms!" He snapped as he repaired the vase with his wand and then threw it at a different wall.

"You're just like your father sometimes," his mother tutted. "It's like you Malfoy men are born without the ability to control your temper when you're not in the public eye."

Draco ignored his mother and moved on to taking out his wand and blasting the small end table the vase had been resting on.

Narcissa sighed. "Draco, I don't think even magic can save that table now."

Her son ignored her, turning his attention to a potted plant. A very _rare_ potted plant. Narcissa frowned and disarmed him, holding her hand out for his wand while he fell into a lump on the floor.

"The plant is alive; you're not allowed to kill things because you're in a temper." She scolded him. "Go to your room until you've cooled off."

Draco stared at her in disbelief. "Mother, I'm not a child anymore, you can't just send me to my room."

"I'd be more inclined to believe you if you weren't _acting_ like a child. Now go to your room or I'll levitate you there." She told him firmly, brandishing both wands at him. Draco was starting to see the appeal of Muggle parents, there was no way his mother would be able to threaten him like that without magic.

Knowing his mother was serious; Draco glared, but got up and walked to his room. It wasn't like there weren't things he could smash in there; he'd just gone to that sitting room because the vases in there made a particularly satisfying sound when they shattered. It must be the centuries of history that added that little extra crunch.

Having exhausted every breakable object in his room, Draco flopped on his bed and stared up towards the ceiling.

Proving 'destiny' wrong couldn't be _that_ difficult, could it? He was already well on his way, he hadn't thought about Granger since he'd tried to kill his mother's plant. Had he?

A scowl made its way onto his face as he realized that he'd never really _stopped_ thinking about her throughout his temper tantrum.

What he needed was a distraction. A nice, distracting distraction. Like that overseas deal he'd been avoiding because it would take up all his time for quite a while. It would involve a trip to Canada and several overseas conference calls, and it was looking more and more appealing by the second.

Yes, that's what he'd do, bury himself in his work until there was no spare brain power with which to think about Granger.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she poured over yet another file. She was two months into her new job at the Ministry, and she was unhappy.

She worked in the Muggle liaison office, in charge of supervising the interaction between the Magical World and the Muggle one. It was a boring job – mind-numbing really, but it kept her relatively distracted from that person she wasn't going to think about.

The second she'd seen the name of her next appointment, she knew that her blissful, Malfoy-less existence was going to come to an end. Blaise Zabini wasn't going to keep his mouth shut about his best mate for the entirety of their meeting, particularly after he'd been there the night she'd visited the Manor to swap their mobiles back.

She tried her best to keep the scowl off of her face as the tall Italian strode into her office.

"Granger," he greeted, sitting down across from her and rifling through an expensive looking briefcase.

"Zabini," she answered in return. "What can I help you with today?"

He finally found the paper he was looking for and triumphantly handed it across the desk to Hermione.

"Why am I holding a picture of you in your underwear?" She asked wearily, pointedly looking away from the picture and focusing on the obviously barmy wizard in front of her.

"I'm going to be a Muggle underwear model."

Of course he was. If it wasn't her job to deal with cases like Zabini's on a regular basis, Hermione would have crumpled the paper and chucked it at the former Slytherin's head. Instead, she forced a tight smile on her face.

"I'll get you the paperwork," she told him, doing her best to hide the irritation she felt at the stupid career choice of the man in front of her.

She walked briskly out of the room, she didn't keep the required paperwork in her office, it was down the hall. She was a little weary about leaving Blaise Zabini unattended in her place of work, but how much trouble could he get into in the five minutes it would take her to find the right papers?

Her question was answered when she came back and found the wizard sitting in her chair behind her desk with a hand in one of the desk drawers.

"Zabini, what are you doing?" She demanded.

He froze, but didn't look apologetic about snooping or anything a _normal_ person would have felt.

"There's only paperwork and job related things in your office, no personal touches or _anything_ interesting." He complained, moving back to the gust chair he'd been sitting in when she left. "It's almost like you're trying to completely bury yourself in you work."

Hermione glared at him as she sat back in her still-warm seat. "Here's your paperwork," she snapped, extending the papers.

The wizard bent his head over the papers, carefully filling them out.

"You two are more alike than you think, you know. He doesn't do anything but work anymore either." He told her without looking up from the papers.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione announced, determined to avoid thinking about a certain blond they both knew.

The scratching of his quill stopped as he finally looked up at her. "Yes you do." He said seriously, looking her right in the eyes.

Hermione huffed in annoyance, but didn't contradict him; she wasn't in the habit of getting into arguments when she knew that she was just going to lose.

She watched as he went back to his paperwork, smug that he was right and she acknowledged it.

"He's been in Canada for the past month, you know." Zabini once again told her as he wrote. She was starting to think he didn't like silence, or possibly just the scratching of his quill.

"Exciting," she answered sarcastically.

"He comes back tomorrow though."

Hermione hummed noncommittally.

Zabini suddenly stood up, handing her the completed forms. He snatched a piece of paper from her desk and wrote an address on the back.

She glared, he was lucky it wasn't an important paper.

"That's where he's meeting me for dinner to catch up."

"Why are you giving me this?" She demanded.

"Because you two need to sit down together and have a conversation before you both start to believe that you _want_ to work so much."

With that, he walked out of her office, leaving a very conflicted Hermione. Maybe she could go to the restaurant with Ginny, just to see how he was doing? Not that she cared of course; she just wanted to... see if he'd really been working himself as hard as his friend claimed. Yes, that was it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**A/N: I finished this story yesterday night! It's 23 chapters and an epilogue... I think you guys are going to like the way everything turns out, I'm pretty content with the ending anyway... In honour of this exciting event (no one I tell seems quite as excited as me), I've posted another chapter! Hooray!**

**As always, thanks to arrandomness for betaing this chapter! **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and alerted, you guys help me find the motivation to write! Don't forget to check out my new story, This Incarnation!**

**~Frosty**

"I can't believe you actually _want_ to have a girl's night. You've been avoiding everyone for months claiming you needed to work and now you suggest a girl's night? What's the catch?" Ginny asked skeptically when Hermione proposed her idea to her friend.

"It's not possible that I just want to catch up with my friend, whom I've missed?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"No."

The brunette sighed. "Fine. Come to dinner with me anyway?"

Ginny gave her friend a hard look, but nodded. "Okay, tomorrow then."

Hermione smiled gratefully, excusing herself and going home before Harry showed up and demanded to know where she'd been just as Ginny had. She hadn't really been _avoiding_ her friends, she'd just been making sure to keep busy.

She let out a sigh of relief as she Flooed back to Delamater Manor. It was finally starting to feel like home instead of a huge echo-y house that was full of disapproving House Elves and curious paintings.

The next morning, she actually woke up looking forward to something, instead of having to drag herself out of bed to the job she hated, dealing with people like Zabini who decided they needed to foray into the Muggle world for reasons equally - if not more - stupid than _underwear model_.

"I _really_ need to get a new job." Hermione muttered to herself as she got out of bed. Waking up happy really highlighted how miserable she'd been ever since she'd taken the job.

"Breakfast, Mistress!" Patsy said as Hermione made her way into the dining room. She smiled in thanks, and didn't even bother to insist that the elf call her Hermione, it was a losing battle.

"Mistress is going out tonight?" The elf asked hopefully as it watched Hermione sit and begin eating the food.

"Ginny and I are going to dinner. It's not a big deal." Hermione said, knowing the elf was going to make a big deal of her going somewhere other than work.

"Nonsense! Patsy knows the perfect set of robes for Mistress's outing!" The elf popped out of existence before Hermione could object.

The brunette let out a sigh; she needed to get help that wasn't so bossy.

"Patsy has run a bath for Mistress and laid out the robes on bed. We dos your hair and makeup as well." The elf shooed her out of the room and towards her room, once again before she could object.

Hermione had learned from experience that it was best to just go along with the elf; she was a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be.

She spent the majority of the day being primped and polished. By the time it was time for Ginny to come over, Hermione was thoroughly irritated, but looking better than she ever had before.

"Wow." Was the first thing Ginny said upon exiting the main fireplace in the Manor. "Hermione, you look amazing."

Hermione glanced down at the dress robes she was wearing. They were a deep, shimmery green and clung to her way too tightly in her opinion, but if Ginny approved, then they must be nice – it wasn't like Patsy was going to let her change anyway.

"Let's just go before she decides my hair isn't _quite_ perfect," Hermione whispered, not wanting to draw the elf's attention.

Ginny laughed at Hermione's anxious expression, but allowed her friend to grab her arm and drag her to the fireplace. They both Flooed to the restaurant that Zabini had written on the card.

"Wow, Hermione. This place is really fancy. Why'd you pick here?" Ginny asked as she looked around the lavish entranceway.

"Umm... No reason. I just wanted to try someplace new," Hermione said, avoiding eye contact with her friend.

They were quickly ushered to a table and given menus. "What do you think looks good?" Ginny asked, glancing up at her when she didn't answer.

Hermione wasn't listening; she was staring towards the entrance where a certain blonde and his friend had just entered. He looked so tired. Gorgeous, but worn and tired. He must have been really working hard while he was in Canada.

"Hermione?" The redhead asked, giving her friend a confused look when she jumped.

Ginny followed the brunette's previous line of vision and her eyes widened. "Malfoy!" She hissed in annoyance. "What's _he_ doing here?"

Hermione was surprised at the venom in the redhead's voice. "Why're you so angry at him?" She asked, unable to think of anything specific that Malfoy had done to annoy Ginny.

"He's the reason none of us have seen you recently, the prat!" Ginny snapped.

"Ginny, what are you talking about? You know I've been busy with work."

The younger woman rolled her eyes. "I'm not _Ron_; I didn't buy your little 'busy with work' excuse for one second. That bleached ferret over there did something to you and you've been burying yourself in your work since. You've been trying to forget about him."

"It has nothing to do with Malfoy." Hermione said defensively, but her denial was contradicted by the blush that was spreading over her face.

Ginny grinned triumphantly. "Your blush gives you away. Now what'd the wanker do?"

"He didn't do anything Ginny." Hermione told her friend firmly.

"He had to have done something; otherwise you wouldn't be so miserable now."

The waiter came back to take their orders, interrupting their conversation briefly. They both placed their orders and politely smiled at the man until he turned away.

"What did he do?" Ginny demanded the second the waiter was out of earshot.

"He didn't do anything!"

"Then why did you bury yourself in work and avoid all of your friends?"

"I'm not!" At Ginny's disbelieving look, she relented and elaborated.

"We're proving that Emerence is wrong, that we're not destined to be together. And if we are, we can fight it." Hermione cringed a little as she said it, it sounded better when it was in her head.

"And you're both miserable. Congratulations, you're right; fate can be avoided, but at the expense of happiness."

Hermione frowned at her friend. "I'm not miserable," she said petulantly, not caring that she sounded like a pouting five-year-old.

"Then why have you been hiding?"

"I'm not hiding!" Hermione snapped, starting to get irritated.

"Then why are you miserable?"

"Because I love him!" Hermione practically yelled, forgetting where they were and the other person who happened to be in the restaurant. Ginny looked surprised and then triumphant, grinning at her mortified friend.

Hermione covered her mouth, horrified at what she had said and sunk lower into her seat, trying to disappear.

* * *

Draco was exhausted and pissed off. Blaise had insisted on this ridiculous dinner the day after his flight landed back in England, leaving him little time to adjust to the time difference.

"Blaise, remind me again why we just _had_ to be here today?" The blonde demanded irritably for the third time. He'd been trying to sleep when Blaise had stormed in and announced that they were going out for dinner.

Draco had been practically dragged from his room and out the door, and before he'd been fully awake, his soon-to-be-ex friend had Apparated them to the restaurant.

"We're here today because you need to do something other than work." Blaise wrinkled his nose in distaste as he said those words. The Italian had never been one for hard work, and had trouble understanding that aspect of his friend.

"I do things other than work; like sleep, which is what I'd be doing right now if you hadn't _woken me up_." Draco growled at his friend.

He put on a moderately pleasant face as their waitress seated them – he didn't need to scare the girl, she was just doing her job.

They were in the process of ordering their meal when there was some sort of disturbance on the other side of the restaurant.

"Because I love him!" someone yelled.

Draco's head snapped up and turned in the direction the exclamation had come from. He knew that voice.

He finally caught sight of her, glaringly obvious even though she was trying to blend in with her chair. Merlin, she looked amazing.

Wait.

Who was it she loved? He had to find out. Draco knew that she'd be trying to run any second, horrified about the scene she'd just made. Walking over there would only piss her off further. An evil smirk spread across his face as he realized there was only one way she wouldn't run – she had to be _furious_, and he'd had all kinds of practice getting her there.

* * *

"Can we have the bill please?" Hermione begged the first waiter to pass their table. She was determined to escape the place before Malfoy decided to do something like come over to her table and mock her.

"Hermione..." Ginny wasn't sure what to say to her friend about the declaration she'd just made, nor how to comfort her in her mortification.

"Don't. Let's just go."

"Your bill's been covered." The waiter said, making his way back to their table with their complementary mints.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"That blond gentleman over there said he felt like he had to pay you for the entertainment," the waiter told them with a look of sympathy.

Hermione was up from the table before he'd even finished his sentence. "I'll show him entertainment," she muttered as she made her way across the room, too angry to be mortified anymore.

People stared as she stomped by their tables, bust she was beyond caring.

"Do you always have to be such an arse?" she demanded when she finally reached them.

Draco and Blaise looked up from their meals to the fuming brunette. Draco spent a minute of speechlessness as the full effect of her outfit hit him, but she probably interpreted his silence as him ignoring her because she continued yelling.

"I know you have this strange need to piss people off, but couldn't you have left me alone just this once, particularly after I said _that_?" As quick as it had come, her anger was fading again; she was just realizing just _what_ she had said and who she was yelling at instead of fleeing like she should have been.

"Think of him as a little boy with a crush pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes," Blaise chimed in helpfully. When Draco and Hermione both turned on him he held his hands in the air in surrender. "I'll just shut up now."

"This was stupid," Hermione groaned, turning around to leave. It really had been a dumb idea for her to decide to storm across a very public place and make a scene, but that prat just seemed to bring out the worst in her. She had quite a temper sometimes, and Malfoy seemed to bring it out better than anyone.

"You're just going to run away without putting me in my place?" A mocking voice said behind her the second her back was turned to leave.

Irritated again, she whipped back around. "I wasn't running away, I'm just aware that this isn't the place for this fight!" She hissed.

"Then would you care to take this outside?" Malfoy asked.

She stiffly nodded and led the way out the door and into a back alley where no one would see them. Neither of them were paying attention to their friends or the knowing smiles that they shot each other from opposite sides of the eating establishment.

"Okay, start what I'm sure will be a scathing string of insults," Malfoy said calmly as he leaned against one of the brick walls in the alley, arms crossed.

Hermione was annoyed with herself, she was so mad she could barely form coherent sentences and he was calm and cool, which was only making her angrier. "You git! You just had to go and make a mortifying situation even worse! You could have just pretended you'd never seen anything instead of rubbing it in my face that you were laughing at me from your table!"

She was breathing heavily by the time she was finished her rant, and Malfoy was giving her a strange look.

He pushed off the wall and walked towards her menacingly. "There's where you're wrong, Granger."

Hermione backed up – not because she was scared, but because if he got too close, her anger would most likely dissipate, and she _needed_ her anger. She flinched a little when she backed right into the wall behind her, she should have chosen a wider alley.

"What am I wrong about?" She asked, only managing to sound mildly irritated instead of furious because of his increasing proximity.

"I can't forget what you said," he told her, close enough that their toes were touching.

He leaned closer until there were only millimetres separating them, despite her attempts to put more space between them. "Who is it you love Hermione?" He breathed near her ear, causing a shiver to work its way up her spine.

She'd been right when she thought that her anger would go away should he get too close; she wasn't angry at all anymore, just sad that she'd finally admitted she loved him and was now going to have to listen to him laugh and tell her he'd never feel that way about a Mudblood or something equally hurtful.

She forgot her worries when he pressed even closer. "Who is it?" He whispered again. He chuckled low when he noticed that she tipped her head away from him slightly, unconsciously exposing more of her neck to him.

Draco smirked evilly and leaned forward to press his lips against her neck, determined to get an answer out of her. He couldn't stand the idea that she had fallen in love with someone who wasn't him.

"Draco," she groaned when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "This isn't a very good way to prove destiny wrong."

"Have I told you that you look exceptionally alluring today?" He mumbled against her warm skin, having forgotten his initial goal of getting her to talk.

Hermione gathered all of her fleeing willpower to push against him and get some space between them. "Stop. You wanted to prove fate wrong, and that's what we were doing. Now you're ruining it." She told him in her best know-it-all voice, using it to hide how much it hurt her to say the words.

"Does this feel like something is ruined?" He asked, indicating the two of them.

Hermione looked away from him to stare at the ground. She hated that he could make her feel shy and meek when he stared at her like that. "That's not the point. _You're _the one who didn't want me-"

"When did I say I didn't _want_ you?" He interrupted.

"You were so angry when you read what was in the book, then you asked if you could never speak to me again without me dying." She told him as if she didn't care, but her voice hitched a little towards the end of her explanation, giving her away.

Draco frowned. He remembered the conversation she was referring to, but he'd only been upset that he didn't have a choice; it wasn't ending up with Hermione that'd been upsetting him. "I don't like being told what to do, it didn't have anything to do with you. It was the lack of choice."

Hermione's eyes darted up from the spot on the ground they'd been focused on to stare intently at him. "So you're not opposed to the idea of being with me?"

Draco shook his head. "I'd never been more worried than I was the day you were kidnapped, then Weasley goes and nearly _kills_ you and I was practically inconsolable. That's not how I act when I'm opposed to the idea of being with someone."

Hermione sighed and let herself lean against him. "Are we done trying to prove destiny wrong then?"She asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to accept it." Hermione tried to pull away from him, thinking he was rejecting her.

His arms wrapped around her waist to keep her against him. "I didn't mean I was going to keep fighting it. I can want you on my own terms, without some 'destiny' dictating our interactions."

Hermione nodded; she could deal with that. "How are you going to refuse to accept destiny without avoiding me?" She asked, unable to think of how he would logically reconcile the two things.

"Simple. I'm going to date you," he announced.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**A/N: This chapter is a little bit longer than most of the other ones... It **_**was**_** quite a bit shorter before, but the beginning was all wrong and completely out of character... So I changed it! Sadly, this means that some chunks of this chapter are unbeated, but I've edited them pretty closely, so I hope it's all right!**

**Thanks to arrandomness for betaing this chapter! Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, etc! **

**~Frosty**

Hermione looked at him in confusion. "You're going to _date_ me?" She asked.

He nodded seriously. "Yes. Maybe there's something to this 'destiny' thing. I've certainly been miserable while I've been trying not to think about you."

She grinned up at him. "That was almost sweet of you, Malfoy."

"If we're going to be dating, I think it might be best if we dropped the unnecessary formalities." He stared at her pointedly until she got the message.

"That was almost sweet of you, _Draco_."

His smug smirk showed that he was pleased she'd so easily caved into his demand. It wasn't like it was anything big that he'd bested her at, he'd merely made a suggestion that made logical sense to her, so she'd gone along with it.

"And I'm not sweet, I'm merely overtired, don't get used to it, Hermione."

Maybe there was a way to wipe that smirk right off his face and take his ego down a few pegs while she was at it. "I never agreed to date you."

He looked surprised for a brief second before he hid it behind his smirk again. He was more nervous than he was letting on. "Are you saying you'd throw away this once-in-a-lifetime experience to spend a night with Draco Malfoy?"

She pretended to think about it. "I know several girls that would be repulsed by the mere suggestion." Ginny with a disturbed look on her face came to mind.

Hermione wasn't trying to be mean; it was just that his confidence seemed so unflappable that she wanted to see if it went as deep as it seemed to. She had a sneaking suspicion that Draco was actually a little concerned that she didn't want to go on the date he was proposing than he was letting on. Whether or not she was trying to be mean, it did please her that Draco was squirming on the inside, waiting for her answer.

Her plan backfired as he leaned closer again and her coherent thoughts fled in the other direction. It wasn't fair! If they were going to have witty conversations, he was going to need to respect her personal space bubble – something he didn't seem to have much success doing.

Before she could try to push him away so she could think again, his face tilted down towards her and he kissed her - hard. Her mind lost the few thoughts that she had been left with and her whole being focused on kissing him back just as fervently.

As abruptly as it had begun, Draco pulled back, surveying her dishevelled, gasping appearance with satisfaction. "Somehow, I doubt you're one of those women that would be repulsed."

Stupid, arrogant, blonde arse! He thought he could just snog her and she'd be putty in his hands. Just because she _sometimes_ partially melted when he was there didn't mean he could just dictate how their relationship was going to be. If she let him get his way _now_, then he would be unbearably smug for the entirety of their date.

"I refuse to either confirm or deny your suspicions." She told him with her nose in the air, doing her best to keep her poor brain focused despite his proximity. She had a feeling he could see right through her pathetic attempt to stand her ground in the face of his charm.

Instead of the frown she was expecting, Draco gave her a real smile. It was a smile without any mocking behind it, just genuine amusement. "Fine, if we're playing it that way..." He grabbed her hand and placed a warm kiss across her knuckles.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow night. If you're not there, I'll give up and never bother you with my allegedly repulsive presence again." He announced, giving her a mocking bow and a glance to make sure she wasn't going to refuse him.

When she smiled back and gave a slight nod, he turned and walked away. At least she hadn't given him too much material he could feed to his already overlarge ego.

Hermione watched as he walked back into the restaurant to meet his friend, looking a lot less pissed off than he had when he'd first entered the building. Well, they had the chemistry thing down, now they just had to see if they could manage a functioning relationship on top of that.

Ginny had been watching the door, so she was able to come outside and find Hermione almost immediately after Malfoy returned.

The brunette had been assaulted by worries the second Draco's soothing presence had left. It was easy to forget her concerns when he was there to distract her, but when he left, she was all alone with her brain. It was very good at imagining the reactions her decisions were going to spark. What would people say when they found out she was dating a former Death Eater? What would Harry and Ron say? Merlin, what would her _Mother_ say to find out that the boy who had tormented her in school was taking her out?

A tiny moan of anxiety escaped her as the reality of all the opposition they were going to face set in.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, having followed the tiny sound into the alley.

"I have a date," Hermione told her friend in a muffled voice from behind the hands she was holding over her face. Maybe if she could block out the world it wouldn't matter that she was about to start something that would not only make her the focus of much more attention than she was comfortable with, but make those closest to her upset.

Ginny's light eyebrows disappeared into her hair. "You're going to go on a _date_ with Malfoy? Like a normal pair of people who are attracted to each other?"

The brunette glared at her friend. "Yes 'like a pair of normal people'." She snipped. Was it really so hard to believe that her and Draco were going to try and so something normal? Sure, their relationship hadn't exactly been _conventional _so far, but Ginny's skepticism was a little much.

"When?"

"Tomorrow night." Hermione looked up at her friend. "Ginny, what am I going to do?" She asked in a quiet voice, surprising the redhead with the amount of worry in her voice.

"You're going to go home now, get some rest, and when you wake up in the morning, you're going to have that overbearing House Elf of yours do exactly what she did today. Then you're going to go on a date with the man you love, even if it is Draco Malfoy." She said his name with only a hint of distaste, which was actually mildly encouraging to Hermione; if Ginny could gradually get over her hatred, then Harry and Ron weren't complete lost causes.

"Okay, I can do that," Hermione said, determined not to spiral into despair. She was going on a date. She loved him. She should be happy, not despairing.

She'd never done anything the easy way, why should matters of her heart be any different?

"What are you waiting for?" Ginny demanded, making shooing motions at her distraught friend.

Hermione shot the redhead a grateful look and heaved a huge sigh as she Apparated home. Ginny was right, this could work; she just had to take it one step at a time and stay calm.

"Well?" Emerence asked as soon as Hermione was in her room.

"Well what?"

"Was _he_ there?" Hermione stopped pulling pins out of her hair and turned to stare at the painting.

"How'd you know?"

"You underestimate me. He came back yesterday and then today you just _happen_ to suddenly need to spend time with your friends? And you were so dressed up..." The woman used a painted hand to indicate the outfit Hermione had yet to remove.

"He was there; we're going to try dating." She still wasn't sure how she felt about this new development between the two of them, but staying apart had only made them both miserable, so she was hoping it would be an improvement on that.

Emerence actually bounced and clapped her hands. "I knew it! You two are going to be so happy together!"

"I'm going to bed," Hermione muttered, too worried about the consequences of publicly dating him to be properly excited about the actual date.

* * *

After a night of anxious tossing and turning, Hermione woke up and scowled. There's nothing like a horrible night of sleep to really make the whole world seem foul.

Patsy was standing in a beam of sunlight holding a set of dress-robes that looked like they may be made of the sunlight that was pooling on it. They were a shade of gold Hermione had never seen captured in fabric before.

"What's that?" She asked the elf.

"This is Mistress's dress for tonight. Now she needs to get out of bed and eat breakfast so she can have her bath." The elf ordered, pointing towards the door.

Hermione groaned, but did what she was told.

"I still hate everything," she grumbled hours later, glancing at the clock. It said it was after nine, so where was Draco?

She was wearing the sunshine dress; it brought out the golden strands in her hair and perfectly flattered her figure. The strappy shoes that matched it were incredibly uncomfortable, but they completed the outfit nicely. And the entire ensemble was wasted because she was _cooking _in it!

Hermione had decided that she needed something to pass the time as she waited for Draco to show up, otherwise she'd be a nervous wreck by the time he did decide it was time to pick her up – _if_ he showed up.

Potions were usually relatively distracting, so that had been her first choice. She was working on a sleeping draught to avoid another night like the one she'd just endured as well as a hangover remedy, because she was going to be needing one if Malfoy didn't appear sometime in the near future.

When the potions didn't prove to be enough to keep her whirring mind occupied, Hermione decided she should bake as well. She was well into her second casserole, with elves hovering anxiously on the sidelines, waiting for her to leave so they could tidy the disaster area she'd turned the kitchen into.

"Should you be keeping that potion so close to your baking like that?" Someone drawled from behind her as she chopped newt eyes to add to her handover potion.

Hermione looked up from her cooking to glance over at the potions bubbling on the stove beside a frying pan of onions and peppers. "I'm sure it'll be fine," she said without looking up from her chopping to see him.

"But you're dicing those newt eyes with the same knife you just used to chop an onion, and you're wearing three inch heels to cook."

Hermione turned around and glared at him. "I'm wearing the heels because I was supposed to be going on a date." She glanced at the clock. "It's midnight now." She snapped, using anger to hide her hurt and disappointment.

Draco took in the gorgeous dress she was wearing under her apron and the remains of the elaborate style her hair must have been in before the steam from cooking ruined it.

"You haven't read the paper yet today, have you?" He asked with a sigh.

"No, I was getting ready all day." She didn't voice it as an accusation; instead she put no inflection in her words as if it was a fact and not something so personal.

The blond rubbed his face, drawing Hermione's attention to how exhausted he looked. It seemed like he hadn't slept at all since she'd last seen him, and he'd looked exhausted then, it was much worse now.

"What's happened?" She asked; her feelings forgotten as she took in how upset he was.

She wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing and moved towards him, grabbing his hand and leading him to a chair before he fell over.

Draco slumped in the chair and looked up at her tiredly, trying to find the energy to explain what was going on to the obviously distressed woman, but he just couldn't find it. Instead he was mesmerized by the sparkling gold of her dress as she moved.

"Is everything all right?" She asked; working her way towards panicked as she took in his vacant demeanour, all residual resentment for being stood-up forgotten in the face of his distress.

She started pacing around the kitchen, trying to remember where she'd put the paper when it had come that morning. Something big had obviously happened and he was in no condition to coherently explain it to her.

Draco waited until her pacing brought her within arm's length and grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap.

She squeaked a little in surprise but relaxed against him as he buried his face against her neck. "Everything's all right now," he sighed against her skin, hugging her tight. She may not be a solution to the problem, but she made everything _seem_ better.

"Draco? What happened?" She asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Someone cursed Mother while she was out shopping in Diagon Alley today because they knew she'd been a Voldemort supporter during the war," he mumbled. "It wasn't anything overly serious, but she was unconscious for a few hours. They had to figure out what curse was used before they could wake her up."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, smoothing his hair and thinking of the smiling blonde woman who had come to visit her. Narcissa Malfoy was not a bad person, and she didn't deserve to be punished for something she was forced into.

"Not your fault," he said sleepily. "Sorry about standing you up."

"Not your fault." She echoed him. It really wasn't his fault that a family emergency had distracted him, and he sounded genuinely sorry – not something that happened frequently around him.

"When was the last time you slept?" She asked when she felt him yawn hugely.

"Feels like last week."

"I have guest rooms, would you like to stay here?" She shyly offered, not sure he'd make it home.

"Mmm, sleep." He mumbled.

She tried to get off of his lap, but he wouldn't let go of her. "You need to let me go if I'm going to show you where you can sleep."

Draco loosened his arms enough to allow her to get up. He didn't look like he was inclined to move from the chair he had settled in, so she grabbed his hand and led him towards a room.

Hermione smiled indulgently as Draco flopped into the bed and almost immediately fell asleep. She took his evil shoes off and turned out the light as she left the room.

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning in a considerably lighter mood than she had the previous day. She padded down the hallway and peeked in Draco's room to find him still fast asleep.

"Watching people sleep is a disturbing pastime," he grumbled at her as he cracked an eye open to see her.

She just smiled at him. "The elves are probably serving some kind of lavish breakfast right about now; they don't usually get to cook for more than one, if you'd like to join me."

Draco wrinkled his nose at the thought of getting up from the comfy bed, he'd had an amazing sleep, but could still use some more. "Any chance you could be convinced to join _me_ for a few more hours of sleep?" He asked, knowing he'd sleep even better if she was there with him. She was like a self-heated pillow that always seemed to smell nice, it was soothing.

"Is that a sad attempt to get into my knickers?" She asked with her hands on her hips, only half serious.

"If I were to attempt to get in your knickers, I'd pull back the sheet to show off my impressive physique," he bragged, making his motions follow his words to show off his bare chest – it seemed that sometime overnight he'd woken up and discarded his shirt.

He looked at her, judging her reaction. "Is it working?"

"You're going to have to try harder than that; I'm not some slag that hops into anyone's bed as soon as she sees him without a shirt." She told him dryly.

"I'm too tired to invest that much effort in something that's only going to take more energy. I'm going back to sleep, you're welcome to join me," he announced, rolling over but not closing his eyes.

A large smirk grew on his face when he felt the bed dip under her weight.

"Only a few hours," she mumbled as she lay beside him and wrapped her arms around him.

Draco wasn't the only one who'd been unable to get much sleep recently; Hermione had been having nightmares since she'd been kidnapped. She'd been tossing and turning all night, waking up almost every hour to glance around the room nervously. This was the perfect opportunity for her to get some sleep somewhere she felt safe.

His smirk widened ever further as he turned around and wrapped his arms around her in return. He felt her snuggle against him and let out a contented sigh; he could get used to this.

It was Draco who woke up first hours later, he watched Hermione stir. "I have to go, Mother's probably been released from the hospital by now, and she's had plenty of time to wonder where I am." He explained to the half-asleep brunette beside him.

Hermione blinked herself awake, bringing the blond blob into focus. "Reschedule?" She asked, her voice still husky from sleep.

"I spent half the day yesterday worrying about Mother and the other half trying to stop Father from finding and killing the bastard who hurt her while wanting to do the same thing myself. I think today's going to be a repeat. You could give me a few hours and then come remove me from that insanity for the good of us all?" He asked hopefully. A reschedule would take too long. Besides, it was probably best that he not spend too much time alone with his parents when they were so worked up about something.

Hermione nodded sleepily and pulled him down for a quick kiss, surprising Draco. He smirked as he watched her stretch languidly and settle back down, looking like she intended to sleep until she came to get him. She seemed to be sound asleep by the time he was out the bedroom door.

"Malfoy?" A voice asked once he reached the bottom of the stairs. Draco groaned quietly; the universe had conspired to make one horrible event after the next hit him. Though, it had rewarded him time with Hermione... The universe was sending him mixed signals!

"Weaslette," he greeted, walking towards the redhead that seemed like she was standing guard at the fireplace.

"You still went on your date? I thought your mum was ..." She trailed off and looked like she regretted asking something she had no business asking. Her eyes betrayed the fact that she still wanted to know the answer, but she kept silent.

"Hermione can explain. I have to go." He waved her aside and stepped into the fireplace.

"Draco! Where the hell have you been? Your mother's been asking for you and I had to make excuses for you!" His father roared the second he caught sight of his son.

Draco flinched a little bit, but didn't let his father see. "I was... out." He answered lamely, mentally berating himself for not having prepared an excuse ahead of time.

Lucius stopped whatever he was going to yell and stared at his son in disbelief. "What kind of Slytherin doesn't have an excuse prepared ahead of time?" He demanded.

_The kind that spends way too much time in the presence of a Gryffindor_. Draco had to fight not to say something that would give away where he'd been for the night.

"Just go see your Mother. I'll deal with you later." Lucius snapped, turning and walking away quickly.

Draco rolled his eyes, but strode towards his parent's room.

"Mother?" He asked, pushing open the door and entering the gloomy room beyond.

"Dra...co?" The pale figure in the bad asked with a frail sounding voice.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**A/N: After what felt like the thirtieth time editing this chapter, I realized that I need a story to take up the time that I used to spend writing this one. I've written the first chapter, but I need a beta reader for it. Anyone have some spare time? I think it's going to be good...**

**As always, thanks to arrandomness for betaing this chapter! **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, etc.**

**Since I've been updating them so close together, it's probably going to be a few days before the next update...**

**~Frosty**

Draco sighed. "I know you're going to be fine, now stop with the drama." He waved his wand and the lights came on, vanquishing the gloom and revealing the healthy glow in his mother's cheeks.

"You're no fun," she pouted at him.

"Are you feeling all right?" He asked, knowing he was going to get a serious answer once he'd done away with her dramatic tendencies – something he refused to admit he'd inherited.

"I'm fine. You look remarkably well-rested for someone who spent the night tossing and turning because he was too concerned about his mother's health to get any sleep."

"It's almost like I spent the entire night sleeping restfully."

"Not in your own bed though, you didn't spend the night in the Manor." The question behind her statement wasn't lost on Draco – it was rather obvious.

"I was at a friend's," he told his mother evasively.

"Is this friend female?" She asked slyly, a grin beginning on her face.

Draco tilted his head, contemplating lying. There really wasn't a way around that question that didn't involve lying to her. The problem with that option was, like most Slytherins, Narcissa Malfoy had an impressive lie detector built in. Draco would know, it had been used on him on numerous occasions while he was growing up.

"Yes, she's female," he finally sighed. There really was no point attempting to mislead her, the truth would come out eventually anyway, and then there'd be hell for him to pay because she'd caught him in a lie.

The smile that spilt Narcissa's face was dazzling; Draco was pretty sure he'd acquire permanent vision damage if he looked directly into it for too long. "Are grandchildren on the horizon?"

"Only if you have another child somewhere to have them for you," Draco grumbled; he hadn't shagged Hermione, he wasn't about to have an awkward conversation with his mother because she assumed he had.

He watched as the smile faded until she was frowning at him. "I nearly died yesterday, and it really put everything into perspective for me. I want you to be married by the end of the year."

Draco stared at his mother for a second to be sure she was serious before answering. "Mother, it's almost November."

She nodded. "You have two and a half months to find a wife. I've already prepared a list for you."

Her hand made its way towards her nightstand, where she was probably keeping the list. When she turned back to read from the papers she had retrieved, the spot Draco had occupied was empty.

He heard her confused "Draco?" as he stormed down the hallway in search of his father.

"You could have warned me!" He snapped as he burst into his father's study.

"Warned you about what?" Lucius asked in a voice that warned Draco to word his answer carefully, because he wasn't in the mood to deal with his son's temper.

"That Mother has decided I need to be married by the end of the year!" Draco yelled.

"You _are _getting older."

"I'm 19!"

"You're 20 in a few months."

"_Nine_ months! Father, I'm too young to get married!"

"Nonsense. I married your mother when I was 22."

"You were engaged for 22 years before that!" His parents had been engaged since birth, much as Draco had been with Pansy. When Parkinson was killed in the war, he had been left with the freedom to choose who he married, something no Malfoy man had done in a _very _long time.

"Draco, you're not even seeing someone right now. You have the Malfoy line to think of."

"I _am_ seeing someone!" Draco's eyes widened when he accidently blurted something he wasn't planning on telling either of his parents – at least not yet. The plan had been to publicly date Hermione and let them find out from the paper or something.

He watched as his father's eyebrows went up while he processed what his son had just said. "Who is it?" Lucius demanded, knowing that Draco probably would have told him already had it been someone he would approve of.

Draco squared his shoulders, preparing for the outburst he knew would come the second he told his father.

Lucius took the preparation time as refusal to answer and continued with his questioning. "Is she Muggle-born?" He looked uncertain before adding another question. "Is she a he?"

Draco's jaw actually dropped at the second question. "Why would you think she'd be a he?" He demanded angrily. What was with all the attacks on his heterosexuality of late? First Hermione and now his own Father...

"I keep finding pictures of Zabini in his underwear..."

Draco rolled his eyes. "The gormless idiot wants to be an underwear model and brings all his newest pictures over here for some barmy reason. I usually just light them on fire."

Lucius didn't say anything but stared at his son, seemingly trying to figure out whether he was telling the truth or not.

"She's Muggle-born!" Draco snapped, just so his father would have something else to focus on. The calculating look Lucius had been giving him was driving him insane. If he'd been gay, he wouldn't be disappointing women by dating them! Hell, his dates may have gone better if he cared even a little bit about the shoes they always seemed to want to talk about. He was going to _murder_ Blaise next time he saw him.

The effect on Lucius was immediate. He grabbed his son's ear and dragged him into the sitting room the held the family tree tapestry.

"A Muggleborn? A MUGGLEBORN!" Lucius yelled, gesturing to the generations of Malfoys that were looking back at them from the tapestry, all of them leading to the picture of Draco.

"Generations of Malfoys have led to you and you're just going to throw that away by dating someone filthy and unworthy of your attention?"

Now Draco was starting to get irritated. "You don't even know her, who are you to judge her?"

"I have centuries of good breeding behind me, as do you!" Lucius snapped. He turned towards the tapestry and started at the beginning, completely focused on his task as he outlined the bloodlines of every person on the wall.

Lucius was so focused that he didn't notice the roar of the Floo or the busy-haired brunette that stumbled out of the fireplace.

Draco however, did notice. He rushed forward and caught Hermione before she could fall, not wanting her to make a bang that would attract the attention of his father before he could warn her about what was going on.

"Mother has decided I need to be married by the end of the year, and Father's seen Blaise's modeling pictures. He asked if I'm gay and now he knows I'm seeing someone who's Muggle-born." A quick summary was in order, if she was going to face the hell that was about to break loose with him, then she needed to be up-to-date.

Hermione didn't answer immediately, she just took in the scene.

Despite the appearance he presented to the public, Lucius Malfoy was not the cold person he pretended to be when there were people to witness his episodes. He was pacing the room and muttering in staccato, angry French while continuously gesturing to the family tree.

Draco sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "He's started on the French, you might want to sit down, it'll be a while before he says anything reasonable," he muttered to Hermione out of the corner of his mouth, following his own advice and sitting in one of the small loveseats that were scattered around the room.

Hermione watched with amusement and a little bit of fear as the usually composed man lost that seemingly ever present composure. She joined Draco on the little loveseat to watch the spectacle. "Can you understand what he's saying?" She leaned over slightly to whisper.

"Of course. The Malfoy side is French, I wasn't allowed to not learn," he murmured back to her, too riveted on the spectacle his father was making of himself to really pay attention to what he was saying.

Lucius suddenly stopped his ranting and turned towards the seated pair. He started a little when he saw that his son was no longer alone. "Who is this?" He demanded. "Is this _her_?"

Draco put his arm protectively around her shoulders, which she was grateful for instead of just resentful that he didn't think she could take care of herself; she felt like she could use the support at the moment. "Yes Father. This is her."

Arctic blue eyes squinted as Lucius tried to figure out from where he knew the woman in front of him. "Why do I know you?" He finally demanded, frustrated because he couldn't place her.

Shrugging the comforting arm off of her shoulders, Hermione stood up. As she extended her hand, she felt Draco stand up beside her. "Hermione Granger." She introduced herself, not surprised when Lucius didn't take the hand she'd offered.

"Instrumental in the takedown of the Dark Lord Hermione Granger?"

She nodded wearily, slowly moving her hand to where her wand rested in her pocket in case it got violent. It turned out to be a wise move when the man facing her whipped his own wand out and pointed it at her.

Draco, unable to believe how fast the situation had gotten out of hand, brought out his own wand and pointed it at his father.

Lucius looked between the young people in disbelief, eventually settling on his son. "You'd turn your wand on your own father?" He asked disbelievingly.

"What's going on here?"

All three of them turned to face a confused Narcissa Malfoy looking at her family and the nice girl she met in the Delamater Manor. They were saved from answering when she notice the protective stance Draco had assumed beside her.

The blonde woman clapped her hands. "That was fast! When's the wedding?"

"Cissa, she's a Muggleborn," Lucius told his overenthusiastic wife, not lowering his wand.

Narcissa noticed the tension in the room and pushed Lucius' arm down so his wand was facing the floor. With the immediate threat removed, Hermione and Draco were able to lower their wands as well.

"I don't care if she's a Muggleborn. Draco likes her, which is more than I can say for all the Pureblood girls he's dated." She turned to Hermione and looked her up and down. "Are you fertile?"

Draco actually groaned and flopped down onto the sofa behind him. "Mother, why do you always have to be so mortifying?" He groaned.

"Because I want grandchildren!" She snapped, looking expectantly at Hermione, obviously waiting for an answer.

"Yes?" Hermione answered hesitantly, not used to considering that kind of thing, and definitely not from almost strangers.

"You don't actually have to answer; it's not any of her concern." Draco grumbled.

"Don't be silly Draco, she doesn't mind." His mother admonished, grabbing Hermione's hand and leading her from the room. The brunette cast a helpless look over her shoulder at Draco, but he knew that she wasn't in danger, and it wasn't worth angering him mother so soon after she was attacked.

The two men were left glaring at each other as the females left the room, one excitedly and the other unwillingly.

"Um, where are we going?" Hermione ventured cautiously, not wanting to anger the other woman.

"To the closet of course. I find that nothing gives a better confidence boost than the perfect outfit."

"And what is it that I'm going to need a confidence boost for?" She _almost_ didn't ask, but felt that she should know what she was getting into.

"Announcing your engagement, of course. The public might be a little judgemental at first, but they'll warm up to the pair of you."

Hermione pulled her hand out of the grasp of the obviously unstable blonde. Narcissa didn't notice right away, so Hermione used the opportunity to back away slowly, then turn around and flee. As a former Gryffindor and war hero, Hermione didn't make it a habit to run from things, but Narcissa Malfoy set on marrying off her son in order to get grandchildren rated more terrifying than facing Voldemort alone.

"Draco!" She gasped, bursting back into the room and glancing over her shoulder nervously. Draco and his father hadn't moved from their glaring positions when she launched herself into the room.

Hermione flung herself at the younger blonde, grabbed his hand and had them both in the Floo before he even had a chance to ask what had finally made her flee.

They landed on the floor in Delamater Manor in a tangled lump.

"What did Mother do that made you run like that?" Draco asked as he untangled himself and helped Hermione to her feet.

Hermione wrinkled her nose as she remembered why they were back at Delamater Manor. "She was going to choose an outfit to boost my confidence for when we announce the engagement."

Draco paled. "Just ignore the both of them," he groaned.

"We're not really having much luck with this date thing," Hermione grumbled, moving towards a sitting room.

"You're not thinking of giving up, are you?"

She pretended to think about it for a second, just to make him squirm. "No, we knew going into this that we'd have difficulties. It's not like anything else in this relationship has progressed normally, why should our date be any different?"

Draco smirked. "I'm sure it'll be worth it when we finally get it right. After all, I'm a Malfoy, and we don't do anything common."

Hermione snorted, remembering his parents. "I'm starting to think being a Malfoy means being insane."

He didn't bother dignifying that with a response. "Wasn't the She-Weasel here?" A change in subject seemed like the safest bet, particularly since he didn't have any evidence to support the sanity of his parents.

"Yes, and she had all kinds of questions for me after she'd seen you leaving. It took me forever to get her to stop," she grumbled remembering what had happened that morning after Draco left her in the comfy bed.

"_Hermione! I just passed Malfoy leaving your house! And it's morning – well, afternoon, but he looked like he'd spent the night here." An excited red blur told the lump in the bed as it launched itself on that lump._

"_He was immaculate when he left, how can he have looked like he spent the night?" The brunette grumbled, resigned to the fact that she was going to have to finally get out of bed after such a restful sleep._

"_It's not what you think, he was exhausted from dealing with the incident with his mum yesterday and I gave him a guest bed."_

_Ginny raised pale eyebrows at her friend. "The guest bed you were just sleeping in?" She asked with an evil grin._

"_Yes, but it's not what your dirty mind is thinking."_

"_And how would you know what my dirty mind is thinking? Don't answer that, I have a better question: was he good?"_

"_Ginny!" Hermione wailed, whipping a pillow at her friend. "I told you, it wasn't like that!"_

_Ginny crossed her arms and regarded Hermione seriously. "Why not?"_

"_Why didn't I shag him?" The brunette asked disbelievingly; was Ginny seriously asking that? The younger woman just regarded her with a level stare. Yes, yes she was really asking that._

_Hermione groaned and burrowed under the covers. "Leave me alone, I haven't been awake long enough to deal with this." _

_She felt Ginny lean over and hug her, the thick blankets between them making the movement awkward. "What was that for?" Hermione asked._

_Ginny smiled at her. "You're happy."_

"_And...?"_

"_And you haven't been this happy since... so long ago I can't seem to remember properly; I'm glad." Her face darkened. "If Malfoy does something to screw this up I'm going to hex him so thoroughly he'll be twitchy and paranoid for the rest of his life!"_

_Hermione laughed at her friend's enthusiasm. It was nice to know Ginny was so willing to accept Draco if he could make her happy. And she was happy; now that Ginny had mentioned it, she realized that she'd felt lighter in the past twenty-four hours than she had in a long time – despite the fact that part of those twenty-four hours had been spent upset because she thought he'd stood her up._

"_So tell me Hermione, does Malfoy look as good under the robes as he does in them, or is it false advertising?"_

"_Ginny! I told you I didn't shag him!"_

"_That doesn't mean you didn't... peruse the merchandise."_

"_You're relentless!"_

_The teasing questions continued as Hermione finally got out of bed and made her way to the kitchen, in search of nourishment and an escape from the mortifying questions Ginny kept throwing at her._


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**A/N: *frantic waving* Hello readers! I'd like to thank you for giving me 200 reviews! I was quite excited! You guys are so great! So here's another chapter as thanks!**

**As always, a huge thank you to arrandomness for betaing this!**

**Don't forget I've got a new story! And I'm writing **_**another**_** new story in anticipation of finishing this one, so keep an eye out for that as well! **

**I'm kind of rushing in posting the last bunch of chapters so close together, but I'm excited to hear what you guys think of the ending (still a few chapters to go).**

**~Frosty**

The scratching of Draco's Muggle pen as he borrowed her laptop for work should have driven Hermione insane. Had it been anyone else, it probably would have. But she found an odd serenity in his presence, and was able to quietly flip through books across from him at one of the many tables in the Delamater library.

They'd quickly realized that with all the time they'd been spending with each other and their friends, they'd begun to fall behind in their work, so they were using the brief respite from the insanity to catch up.

"If I'm going to have a life again I'm going to have to cut down on my workload," Draco broke the silence to mutter to himself.

Hermione looked up at him curiously. "Why was your workload so heavy?" She asked, unable to believe that he'd been doing the exact same thing she had; taken on extra work to avoid each other.

"Same reason as you, I'd imagine." He didn't look away from the computer screen, nor did he seem embarrassed in the least to admit it, which wasn't something she would have expected from him.

They went back to work in comfortable silence for a while longer, until Patsy appeared.

"Mistress and guest is having dinner now?" It was phrased as a question, but Hermione had no doubt that the elf would pester them until they went to eat.

Draco watched in amusement as the bushy-haired woman obediently closed her books and stood up.

"They've got you trained well, have they?"

Hermione blushed. "They're very insistent about my mealtimes. They never let me read all day and forget to eat."

He closed the laptop and followed her to the dining room, feeling more respect for the small creature. One little elf had done something no one had seemed able to manage in the past; make Hermione Granger stop reading and eat regular meals.

"Not that I'm complaining, but shouldn't you be getting home soon?" Hermione asked as they ate the overly complicated meal the elves had made.

"You've seen them, it's a madhouse there." Draco shuddered, remembering the gleam he'd seen in his mother's eyes as she'd insisted he get married before the end of the year. He had no doubt that there would be a wedding planner waiting for him when he returned.

"What's this green stuff?" Draco asked, pointing to the little lumps of green in his mashed potatoes. He needed to stop thinking about the hell that was waiting for him back at Malfoy Manor, and the green bits had been vaguely worrying him for a while.

Hermione glanced at her own potatoes and took a bite, chewing slowly to judge the flavour – not that the potatoes needed much chewing. "I think it's parsley. You've never seen parsley before?"

Draco wrinkled his nose and doubtfully tasted the food. She laughed when he obviously found them delicious, immediately taking another, larger mouthful. "Father has banned 'pointless green bits' from the food at the Manor, and I've never bothered to ask anywhere else."

"You mean you didn't want to ruin your stoic Malfoy facade by deigning to notice the 'little green bits' in your food."

"When you have enemies by age three just because of your last name, you learn the importance of the facade." He told her. When a wrinkle formed between her eyebrows, he inwardly cringed; upsetting her and ruining the light mood hadn't been his intention, he was just being honest.

What does one say to something like that? Hermione looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry." She mumbled. At his questioning expression she elaborated. "No little kid should have to worry about anything but enjoying life and growing."

His eyes narrowed slightly and his face closed up. "I don't need your pity. I grew up fine."

"Draco... I didn't mean it like-"

"I know you didn't." He snapped, realizing how harsh he sounded and softening his gaze and his voice. "I should get going; I have to face my parents eventually. They should've had enough time to cool down by now."

She could only watch as he walked away, back straight and proud, and shut the door quietly behind him. A sigh escaped her. So much had happened in so little time, it wasn't really a surprise that he'd temporarily revert to his former demeanour.

No longer hungry, Hermione got up from the table and left, deliberately turning in the opposite direction of the main fireplace so as not to run into him when he was obviously trying to escape.

* * *

"Hermione." She glanced up from the paperwork she was working on to see Harry peeking around her office door.

"Hi Harry. What do you need?" Her answer was absent-minded; she had a lot of paperwork to get through and was still a little behind.

Draco seemed to be avoiding her and it was starting to grate on her already frayed nerves. She was upset to think that she loved him, but he was so fickle as to ignore her owls for days because he'd let down his walls once and didn't want her to feel any sympathy for him.

Harry looked awkward. "Well, we need to question Narcissa Malfoy on her attacker, but she said the only way she'd cooperate is if we bring you 'to talk some sense into them'."

Hermone's hair brushed the still wet ink as she tilted her head to the side in confusion. "Bugger!" She muttered, pulling out her wand and attempting to repair the damage. "Talk some sense into who?"

"We... don't actually know."

She contemplated for a second; there were only so many mutual acquaintances the two women shared, and very few of them would listen to sense from Hermione. Draco was a definite possibility, but if he was avoiding her like she suspected, then the probability of having him listen to her advice seemed just as likely as Lucius listening. Her eyes widened. Merlin, Narcissa didn't want her to come talk some sense into _both_ the Malfoy men, did she?

They must have done something pretty horrible for Narcissa to need her help... Or maybe it was just some ploy to get Draco talking to her again? Either way, Hermione wasn't going to ignore a request for assistance.

"All right, when do we go?"

"As soon as you can. We've got a plan, but we need whatever answers we can get from Mrs. Malfoy."

"Could the same group that took me have attacked her?" It was unlikely that no one had asked a similar question already, but she hadn't been keeping up with recent events as well as she probably should have been.

"That's what we've been thinking, but there's no conclusive evidence."

Hermione flipped through the remaining work piled on her desk. "This can wait, let's go now."

"You've been quiet recently," Harry commented as they made their way to the Ministry fireplaces.

"I know. There's been a lot on my mind."

"The kind of thing you can't share with your friends?"

She contemplated the question. Draco's silence was bothering her, but if she were to tell someone about it, they'd probably just say something along the lines of 'he's a Malfoy, what did you expect?' But he was _more_ than just his name, he was his own person. A person who could be sweet when he wanted to. A person who was by no means the cold, hard being he presented to the hostile world.

"No." She answered firmly. Harry and Ron would never understand. Ginny, perhaps, but not the boys, they were too determined to hate Draco. Telling Ginny about her recent silence from Draco would be a risk, there was a chance the protective redhead would hunt him down and hex him, saving the questions for later, so Hermione had kept her worries to herself.

Harry didn't comment further, just led the way to the fireplaces in silence, seeming to think about her answer. It was unlikely that he believed her, but he appeared willing to let it go until she was ready to talk about it.

She felt some trepidation as she stood in front of the ministry fireplace with a handful of Floo powder. Were simple fireplaces always so intimidating?

_It's just Malfoy Manor on the other side. _She tried to sooth herself. _You've been there several times, and survived_ almost_ every trip unscathed_.

Okay, that wasn't working so well. An image of Bellatrix came into her head. Why was she remembering that _now_?

"You ready?" Harry asked, noticing her hesitation.

Hermione frowned at herself for being a coward. What kind of Gryffindor was afraid of a house? She shook her head to clear her ridiculous worries and threw the powder in, calling out the destination a second later.

The sitting room she appeared in was starting to get awfully familiar. Narcissa was there waiting for their arrival, but before she could say anything to the apprehensive brunette, Harry came out behind her, forcing her to step out of the way to avoid a collision.

"Mr. Potter," The regal woman greeted, before turning to Hermione and surprising her by enveloping her in a hug. "I'm glad you're here, Draco needs someone to talk some sense into him and I'm hoping his father will follow the example he sets."

Narcissa released her and turned back to Harry. "You have some questions for me?" It was amazing how her warm personality could be completely overrun by this ice queen when she was addressing someone she didn't seem to like very much.

"We're just waiting for Ron," he explained apologetically, glancing at the fireplace with a slight frown. The redhead was late yet again, making the entire Auror department come across as unprofessional to someone they needed assistance from who already didn't like them.

The fireplace roared before Harry had even looked away from it, emitting a dishevelled Ron.

Hermione's eyes rolled towards the ceiling; judging by the lipstick on his collar, the idiot had been with Lavender. He wasn't even late because of an important reason.

"Sorry I'm late," he mumbled, looking at the ground and reddening slightly under the arctic, disapproving gaze of Narcissa.

Harry produced two flasks from his robe and handed one over to Ron. "Mrs. Malfoy, if we could just have two strands of hair..."

Instead of looking offended like Hermione had expected, Narcissa pulled the required strands out of a pocket. Something had obviously been discussed ahead of time regarding the flasks.

"You have your hairs, I'll give you the answers you want once Hermione leaves to fulfill her role."

Ron looked between the other three people in the room in confusion. "Why _is_ Hermione here?"

"She's here to talk sense into my son." The blonde declared with a sneer directed at Ron.

Hermione actually flinched a little; the woman really knew how to act the part of offended royalty. Maybe Narcissa's theory about a good outfit had more value than Hermione had originally thought; it took confidence to be that disdainful and superior.

"Wait, you want Hermione to go off alone and find Malfoy?" At Narcissa's tiny nod, he whipped around to Harry. "You can't let her go alone, these people are Dea-"

"RON!" Harry interrupted his friend. "You are a professional and have been invited into their home. You. Will. Be. Polite."

"I can take care of myself, Ronald," Hermione snapped right after Harry finished. "I'll go find him now," she said to Narcissa, who gave her a small smile of thanks.

She slipped out the door and shut it behind her, cutting off any further protests that may have come from her misguided friend.

The hallways at Malfoy Manor were just as confusing as they were in her own home. The only place she _may_ have been able to locate in Malfoy Manor was the library, and she was pretty sure Draco wasn't going to be there. Maybe in that study near the library where the incident with alcohol had happened? It was as good a direction as any. She set off with a shrug; someone would find her before she was lost for _too _long. She only hoped she didn't run into Lucius before Draco.

Only four doors down from the room she had exited, a pale hand shot out and yanked her inside a room. The door to freedom shut with a slam, cutting off her exit as she whipped around to face her captor.

"What are you doing here Granger?" The voice of her abductor hissed angrily, pushing her against the wall. It was an intimidation tactic that had no effect on her at all, aside from making her furious that he was even attempting it.

She straightened her shoulders and glared fiercely. "Oh, it's back to Granger now, is it _Malfoy_?"

There was such venom in her voice that it gave him pause. He knew her well enough to know that he'd hurt her, which was fuelling part of her anger. Taking in her appearance, he sighed. "Hermione, I'm sorry. It's just that this is a really bad time for you to visit."

She raised her eyebrows in question, refusing to soften her glare just because he'd apologised and gone back to her first name. "And why would that be?"

Draco stepped away from her and flopped onto the sofa, well aware that trying to intimidate her was pointless. "Father and I –"

"Wait!" She ordered, holding up a hand.

The blond stopped with his mouth open, about to say another word, but obeying her urgent plea. He snapped his mouth shut raised an eyebrow in question.

"Harry and Ron are here questioning your mother right now. Is whatever you're about to tell me something I'm going to feel obligated to tell them?" She moved closer while she was speaking, stopping just in front of him.

Draco nodded. He reached out and pulled her into his lap, smirking at her squeak. His actions were partly because he wanted her to stop with her questions and partly because he'd missed her a little and wanted to hold her.

She brought her arms up around his neck and moved her head to his shoulder, wiggling a little until she was comfortable. "Don't think I'm going to forget." She grumbled.

"Didn't think you would. We could, however, find something to occupy us until Potter and Weasley leave." He slid his hand down her back suggestively, causing her to shiver and let out a small un-Hermione giggle.

He leaned his head down towards her, but she remembered he'd been ignoring her letters. "Why haven't you answered the owls I sent you?"

His eyebrows came together and he looked confused. "I didn't get any – _Father_!" He snarled. "Father was acting suspicious with a disgruntled owl sitting beside him two days ago. I didn't think anything of it then, but he must have been intercepting my mail."

She looked into his eyes, judging his honesty and grinned when she found him sincere. "As you were, then," she mumbled against his mouth. He smothered her grin with his lips.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**A/N: Hello readers! I was going to try to work this into this chapter, but didn't really have anywhere to fit it: Lucius didn't have any particular plans for taking Hermione's letters before they got to Draco, he was just being a spiteful jerkface because she's Muggleborn. **

**Thanks to arrandomness for betaing and to everyone who reviewed, favourited, etc! You guys are wonderful! Only 3 chapters and an epilogue left... *tear* It will be sad to see this story go... But I've been working on a new story to fill the void! I won't post it until this one's finished though, so keep an eye out! **

**~Frosty**

Draco groaned quietly as her fingers combed through his hair. He could get used to this. When she was kissing him, forever didn't seem such a daunting thing, it seemed downright pleasant.

He cradled the back of her head to bring her closer, not registering the faint click he heard.

While just as distracted as Draco, Hermione understood what that click meant. Someone had just opened the door. She froze and turned to stare in horror at the person standing in the doorway, wand raised.

Feeling her freeze, Draco glanced in the same direction as Hermione and saw his mother standing there, looking like she was contemplating blasting his head off.

"Mother! You're not going to be able to threaten me into getting married!" He snapped; fed up with the measures she was willing to take for grandchildren.

Draco nearly fell off the sofa despite Hermione's weight and gravity holding him there when another Narcissa Malfoy followed the first one in looking equally angry and also holding a wand threateningly.

"Is _this _what you meant when you said you wanted Hermione to 'talk some sense into him'? Because they're not doing much talking." The first Narcissa said to a third, less angry one in Harry's voice.

Suddenly understanding, Hermione blurted "the Polyjuice."

Harry and Ron weren't paying attention to what Hermione was saying; they were focused on Draco's hand. Earlier, it had made its way under the fabric of her shirt and was still resting against her bare back.

"Get your filthy hands off her!" Ron's voice yelled from the mouth of the second Narcissa.

"I'm going to need so much therapy after this." Hermione heard Draco mutter.

"You only have an hour before the Polyjuice wears off. Don't waste the Ministry's time and money, yell at me later." Hermione snapped at her friends, knowing that they wouldn't be satisfied until they'd yelled at her about how dangerous fraternizing with Malfoys was and many other untrue warnings.

Harry swore. "She's right, we have to go Ron." He grabbed his now female friend's arm and dragged the angry looking Narcissa out of the room. "This isn't over Hermione!" He called over his shoulder, letting her know that he wasn't going to forget.

She wrinkled her nose in the general direction of the door, not looking forward to _that _conversation.

Upon hearing the distant roar of the Floo, Hermione turned back to Draco, accidently whipping him with her hair. "Tell me." She ordered, jolted back into her reason for visiting by the appearance of her friends.

"They've gone and hunted down the man who cursed me. He's in the dungeons." The real Narcissa informed her, stepping further into the room.

"You did WHAT?" The brunette screeched, jumping off Draco's lap to better scold him for his monumental stupidity.

"I think Mother made it pretty clear what we did."

"My question was referring to how you could be so STUPID!" She started pacing; it was a habit when she was angry or anxious.

"Don't be afraid to hit him, these Malfoy men can be sense-resistant when they set their minds on something," Narcissa told her as she left the room and shut the door, presumably giving Hermione privacy to beat some sense into Draco.

"You're not going to kill him, are you?"

Draco turned hard eyes to her. "I'll do what's necessary."

"We're not at war anymore! You can't just _kill _people!" She threw her hands in the air for emphasis. Suddenly, she stopped, a new question occurring to her. "What are you doing to him in the dungeons?"

"Making him wish he were dead."

Hermione paled; he said this with such conviction and menace that she had no doubt they were using dark curses that no one had uttered since Voldemort was defeated. Malfoy Manor was suddenly much closer to the place it had been for her during the war; somewhere dark and intimidating, full of danger. She shivered.

Logically, she knew that Draco and Narcissa wouldn't hurt her, and she was relatively sure that Lucius didn't mean her any particular harm at the moment. This knowledge didn't stop the reaction she seemed to be having at the reminder that these people were on the other side during the war. The side that had tortured her and tried to kill her in _this _house. She shivered again, more violently as she had a disturbing flashback to the whole episode with Bellatrix she'd suffered through.

Never one to back down just because she wasn't comfortable somewhere, Hermione continued. "You have to turn him over to the ministry; they're trying to take down his group. Not only are you purposely impeding a Ministry investigation, you're knowingly and deliberately torturing another human being!"

There was much less conviction and anger in her voice, fear was dulling her other emotions, but that wasn't going to stop her.

"I don't _have to _do anything. The Ministry has no reason to believe that he's here, and it will _stay _that way." He threatened, finally standing up from the sofa to better intimidate her with his height.

"The war's over, you can't _do _these things anymore!" Hermione was on the verge of tears but doing her best to hide it. Was he really trying to threaten her into keeping her mouth shut? She'd thought he was a different person than he'd been during the war, and he was proving her to be very wrong. She'd also thought they were beyond his childish intimidation tactics.

"I've done things that you wouldn't even be able to _imagine_. I'm not one of your sunshine and rainbows Gryffindor friends! You need to understand that." He took a step towards her, but she flinched and her hand went to her wand unconsciously.

Draco's eyebrows drew together; did she actually just move like she was afraid of him? Great, he'd gone a little far trying to convince her he wasn't a good person and now she was afraid of him. Hurt flashed across his face as he realized this, but he hardened it into a scowl before she could register it.

"Let him go." She ordered, before turning and leaving without even a goodbye. She had said all she needed to, now he just needed time for it to soak through his stubborn head that she may be right. It was a relief to be headed out of the newly disturbing Manor.

He frowned as she walked down the hall; it hadn't escaped his attention that she'd seemed reluctant to turn her back on him. That had hurt, but it was what he'd intended so he couldn't exactly be upset, cold he? Yes. Yes he could. It shouldn't have worked so well. She was supposed to already know these things about him; they hadn't seemed to bother her before.

Draco heaved a huge sigh and ran his hands through his hair. He was going to have to do the 'right thing' for her, wasn't he? His nose wrinkled in distaste; he _hated _it when he had to do the right thing, it made him feel all Gryffindor-y.

Grumbling, Draco walked towards the dungeons.

"Did she beat some sense into you?" His mother asked. It seemed that she had been waiting by the entrance to the dungeons, confident that Hermione would be able to convince him to let the man go.

"Something more effective, she was afraid of me," he mumbled.

"Then go after her when you're done here," she ordered, stepping out of his way. "I'll keep your father distracted." Draco wasn't normally one to respond well to orders, but his mother was right in this instance.

He nodded, moving past her into the dungeons. The air was immediately colder and slightly musty and there was a feeling of misery in the air despite the virtually deserted state of the dungeons. Draco hated the place now; he could only imagine what it had been like when they were still used. Even when Voldemort had been occupying the Manor, the dungeons had only held a few prisoners; Voldemort preferred to kill rather than punish. Descending into the stone-walled room filled with suffering and groaning prisoners must have been a truly horrible experience for his ancestors – unless they'd been the type to enjoy that kind of thing, which wouldn't surprise him.

The only groaning prisoner occupying the dungeons at the moment was huddled into a ball in the farthest corner of his cell. When the man saw Draco coming, the groans turned into whimpers.

"Oh shut up, I'm not here to hurt you," the Malfoy heir grumbled.

The man scrambled to his knees and backed as far away from Draco as he could when the blond pulled his wand out and pointed it at him. Draco rolled his eyes, but didn't try and comfort the man; he wasn't deserving of comfort, he deserved a cold, dark cell in Azkaban.

"Obliviate."

The coward's eyes glossed over as he forgot everything that had happened since he'd been abducted by Lucius. Draco knocked him out with a spell and levitated the man to a fireplace, where he sent the unconscious body to the Ministry. No one would be able to trace where he came from, all anyone would be able to gather from the man was information about his group, not where he'd been after he'd been taken from said group.

Now all that was left was to go and find Hermione, repair whatever damage he'd done – if he could. His brain kept pushing the flash of fear in her eyes and the way her hand had unconsciously moved to her wand to the forefront of his mind. She'd been afraid of him. The brave woman he'd come to know, the one who never backed down from a fight with her Gryffindor courage and recklessness to back her even in the most hopeless situations.

Years ago, he would have been proud that he'd been able to have such an effect on her. Not now. He wanted to make her feel safe and... safe. Just safe.

Facing Hermione was easier said than done. What if she was still afraid of him when he went to visit her? What if she wasn't able to get over it? Would that mean they were done?

Draco was actually anxious, worried what someone else was going to think - something that didn't happen very frequently to someone as self-assured as him.

"Bugger bugger bugger," he muttered as he stalked the halls of the Manor. It would probably be a good idea to be out of the house by the time Father noticed that their prisoner was gone, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to Floo to Delamater Manor. He retreated to his bedroom, where he had a fireplace and wards that would keep Father out, should he decide to check on their prisoner.

* * *

Hermione had fled Malfoy Manor and gone straight to the library. She was searching every book she could find on wizarding law for those pertaining to the situation at Draco's house. If she was going to turn them in, then she was going to know what they were going to face once the authorities got a hold of them.

So far, it wasn't looking good; abducting and – she guessed – torturing someone was heavily discouraged with harsh penalties. Imprisonment for life, or even execution in some of the cases she found.

She groaned and banged her head on the book she was reading. What was she supposed to do? She wasn't about to doom Draco to death or a lifetime of imprisonment, but what he was doing was _wrong_. What kind of person would she be if she just overlooked that fact?

"Mistress should be going to bed now, books are making her sad." Patsy said with a disapproving look at the book Hermione had her head in. Judging from the small elf's expression, Hermione had a feeling the book she had been reading would be mysteriously missing from the library in the morning.

Hermione jumped, on edge from everything that had been happening. Patsy's suggestion seemed as good as any, so she reluctantly made her way to her bedroom. The problem would still be there in the morning -unfortunately- and tackling it on a full night's sleep would probably help.

* * *

By the time Draco had managed to gather the courage to pay Hermione a visit, it was very, very late – or early, depending on how you looked at it. She was probably asleep, but he wasn't able to remain idle long enough to achieve that state of rest himself.

He made his way towards Hermione's bedroom, assuming that was where she would be at this hour. The sound of someone padding quietly down the halls drew his attention.

He found Hermione on the stairs, probably on her way to the kitchens.

"What's wrong?" He whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her progress.

The brunette flinched and whipped around, wand out and mess of hair flying out around her. It took her a second to impatiently push the hair out of her face before she could see who it was in front of her. It seemed her hair was a safety hazard; if he'd been someone who intended her harm, she wouldn't have been able to defend herself in time. On the other hand, it was endearing and adorable to watch her struggle with it like that.

"Draco. You scared me," she sighed in relief when she saw it was just him.

She was _relieved_ that it was him? If her expression earlier in the day had been any indication, she should be _more_ afraid now that she saw him. "You're not afraid of me?" He asked; surprised at how relieved he was.

She looked confused. "No, why would I be?"

"At the Manor..." He trailed off, unsure how to word her reaction.

His explanation turned out to be unnecessary; she seemed to catch the direction of his statement. "It wasn't you I was afraid of, it was Malfoy Manor. When you went all cold, I realized I was somewhere where horrible things had happened to me and someone else was going through that at your hands. I had to get out." She shuddered.

He wanted to hug her and make that fear go away, but he had the feeling she didn't want a hug from him just then and it killed him that it was his fault.

"I Obliviated him and turned him in to the Ministry after you left," he mumbled, not liking having to admit that he was wrong.

She gave him a big smile that would have made him do something girly like melt if he wasn't so manly and masculine. Yes, that was it; manly and masculine feelings. Time for a subject change.

"What're you doing awake?" He asked, finally taking in her dishevelled appearance and the bags under her eyes.

"Nothing, just couldn't sleep." She answered immediately. Too quickly. He looked at her skeptically, raising an eyebrow in questioning disbelief. Why did she feel like she had to lie to him? It was obvious that something was bothering her.

Hermione rubbed shaking hands over her face, needing the time to compose herself. "It was just a nightmare, but I need a dreamless sleep draught from the stores off the kitchen. I didn't want to wake the elves to get it."

Draco looked at her with sympathy; she was almost always the one giving the comfort, never the one to receive it, and she'd been through just as much as the rest of them.

"It wasn't so long ago that we were at war, and an even shorter time ago, you were taken from your bedroom. Everyone gets scared sometimes." He reassured her, gently taking her elbow and leading her back to her room.

Her earthy eyes turned to him in question.

"You're going back to bed."

"But..."

He waved his wand and summoned a dreamless sleep draught, holding his hand out expectantly. "You're a witch; you seem to forget that sometimes." The potion plopped into his hand as he opened her bedroom door. Perfect timing.

"Draco?" She asked in a small voice, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

"Mmm?" He hummed. Not really paying attention as he measured out the potion for her.

"Could you stay with me until I fall asleep?" She practically whispered, ashamed of her weakness.

He sat down on the edge of her bed, handing her the potion and watching as she made a face after gulping it back. "You'd want a Death Eater in your bed?"

"No, but you're not a Death Eater." She said confidently, if a little sleepily. Tugging his hand, Hermione pulled him down beside her. She snuggled close and pulled a blanket over him as well before succumbing to the potion.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**A/N: Hello readers! First thing: I've written a new oneshot that actually stayed a oneshot! It was a little idea I thought of while in class that got way out of hand until I had to write it down. I'm quite pleased with the result... You might want to check it out.**

**As always, thanks to arrandomness for betaing and thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, ect!**

**~Frosty**

Hermione woke up to a crash and a shattering sound. She jumped violently and would have fallen out of bed had a strong arm not reached over and pulled her back.

"Did you just throw my alarm clock into the wall?" She asked in a sleep roughened voice.

The only response she got was to be pulled against his chest and something mumbled against her hair. It wounded an awful lot like 'damn Muggle torture device'. She agreed heartily, but it was a _necessary_ Muggle torture device.

"Draco, I have to go to work, and you probably do too."

"Don't have to get up, I'm the boss," he mumbled into her hair again.

"That's wonderful for you, but I have to get to work." She told him, half laughingly as she pushed his arm off of her and wiggled out of bed.

This should have been more awkward, she knew that. There was just something relaxing about him when he let his guard down, he made it difficult for her to feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was his complete shamelessness? He definitely wasn't making it easy for her to leave when he was looking so adorably sleep-ruffled – not that he'd appreciate it if she told him that. He'd been so kind to her the night before, he'd also been right; she _was _a little bit afraid of sleeping in her room after everything that had happened.

Draco watched as she grabbed clothes and disappeared into the washroom. He pouted when she closed the door behind her, but he'd expected that, so he got over it quickly.

"You're really not going to get out of my bed?" She asked as she put on her shoes, having showered and dressed.

"I love that you haven't once told me where you bought your shoes." Draco said as he watched her put a pair on her feet. He didn't bother answering her question; he was like a cat, not about to leave the place where he was warm and comfortable until he absolutely had to. Besides, the pillows still smelled like her shampoo and it was lulling him back to sleep.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You need to stop dating airheaded Purebloods."

"I already have," he pointed out, gesturing to her.

"I'm going to work now, you probably should as well," she mumbled, ducking her face so he didn't see the blush that stained her cheeks as she strode purposefully out of the room, determined to be on time despite Draco's sabotage attempts on her poor alarm-clock.

* * *

Harry was waiting for her in her office when she arrived. "I thought it best that Ron not be here for this conversation."

"What conversation?" She asked, feigning ignorance. She was a little flustered from the mad rush Draco had started by making her behind schedule.

"Hermione, we found you in Malfoy's lap suctioned to his face with his hand up your shirt! What do you think we're going to be talking about?"

Hermione huffed at her friend; she knew he meant well, which was the only thing keeping her from biting his interfering head off. She took a calming breath, knowing she was going to need it. "Harry-"

"How could you do this to me?" He demanded angrily.

"I'm dating Draco, it's not like I'm trying to resurrect Voldemort. There's nothing dangerous about what I'm doing." For someone so modest about his defeat of Voldemort, Harry was awfully arrogant to think her relationship with Draco was all about him.

"You wandered Malfoy Manor. Alone!"

"And I didn't get into any trouble."

"You got into Malfoy's lap, that's debatable." Harry told her dryly, his anger obviously dissipating a bit as a wry grin broke out on his face.

Hermione barked out a surprised laugh. "He's not so bad; he helped me a lot when I was dying."

"I know; which is why I didn't hex him yesterday." Harry looked a little upset at the reminder that she'd been so close to death and for the longest time, he hadn't even known.

"And you're not going to hex him in the future, should you run into him?"

He seemed to seriously think about his answer for a moment. "Provided he doesn't hurt you, then no, he will remain un-hexed."

She rushed forward and hugged him. "Thanks Harry." She said to his chest as she squeezed her friend as tightly as she could.

"Did you get the bloke you turned into Narcissa Malfoy to catch?" She asked when she'd released him and they'd both sat down again. Hermione was careful not to let on that she knew more than she should about the case he was working on.

Harry shuddered at the memory. "I'm going to need therapy after that."

"Funny, Draco said the exact same thing." They really were more alike than either of them would ever admit.

"Great, I'll be telling my therapist about that as well."

Hermione mock glared. "Did you get the bloke?" She persisted.

"Yah, it was the strangest thing. We got back from our mission, frustrated because we'd just spent time as Narcissa Malfoy, when we found the man we'd been looking for unconscious in front of one of the fireplaces."

She faked surprise at this revelation. "How'd he get there?"

Harry looked frustrated. "That's the strangest part; he'd been Obliviated and the Healers said there was evidence of torture and dark curses. No one has any idea how he got there." Except Hermione and all three Malfoys, but she wasn't going to get them in serious trouble with the law. It weighed on her conscience to keep something like that from Harry, but she did it for Draco's sake.

"Odd." She said. "Listen Harry, I really have to start working now."

"Just... Don't let Ron see you two together until he's had some time to deal with this, all right? I'll talk to him, but he needs some time. You know how he is." Hermione nodded and gave her friend another hug.

"Thanks Harry."

* * *

"You're still in my bed?" She asked when she came home. She'd come to her room to change into something more loose-fitting than her work clothes so she could comfortably lounge around the house. Instead of the empty bed she'd been expecting, there was Draco sprawled across her comforter wearing only pyjama bottoms as he did paperwork.

"No, I'm in your bed _again_. I like it here."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't kick him out. Rifling through her bureau she pulled out comfortable clothes and shut herself in the loo to change.

Dressed in sweatpants and an old, baggy t-shirt, she put her hands on her hips and stared at the blond. "What happens when I want to use my bed?"

He gave her a lecherous smile. "Things like that are more fun with two people."

She ignored his comment, flopping down beside him. "What're you doing?"

Draco glanced down at the paperwork he'd scattered across the bed. "Nothing important." With a wave of his hand he conjured a wind to blow it all off the bed.

Free to move without the annoying crinkling, he rolled on top of the brunette siren beside him.

Hermione looked up at him and raised her eyebrows in question. Was this his way of seducing her? Because it was kind of working... She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to meet her lips, tired of watching him as he watched her.

Draco was surprised at her forwardness, but wasn't about to argue. He met her with just as much enthusiasm as she was showing – until something occurred to him.

Hermione made a sound of protest when Draco pulled away. He got off of her and sat back on his heels, looking down at her messier-than-normal hair and flushed cheeks.

"You're not going to shove me onto the floor and run, are you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous –" he looked relieved "- this is _my _room, I wouldn't run, I'd hex you." The relief was gone, but her smirk was like food to a starving man - completely irresistible. It drew him back to her mouth despite her half-threat of hexing.

A tapping disturbed them just as Draco was playing with the hem of her shirt, contemplating removing the thing. They both glared at the window, but it was Hermione who moved to open it for the owl.

The bird flew right past the witch and landed on the pillow beside Draco.

"Two guesses who _that's _from," he grumbled, reaching to take the letter.

Hermione perched on the edge of the bed and watched him read. Judging by the look on his face, her guess was his mother – he reserved that particular scowl for when the woman was driving him insane.

"What did it say?" She asked when he crumpled it in a ball and chucked it into the fireplace, moving closer to her to resume where they'd left off.

"She couldn't help but notice that I hadn't come home last night and was wondering where I was," he grumbled.

"But... she sent it here."

"Exactly. She also said she hoped we were keeping in mind what she'd said about grandchildren."

Hermione burst out laughing.

"It's not funny," Draco sighed, he'd been dealing with his mother's insanity for as long as he could remember, and it could get exhausting sometimes.

"Sorry," Hermione patted his hand, not sounding sorry at all. "It's just that most mothers don't send their nineteen-year-old sons letters saying 'I assume you had sex last night and I hope you didn't use protection'."

Draco snorted, reluctantly joining in with her laughter – not because he found the situation particularly amusing, but her bell-like laughter was infectious.

"She also wanted to have you over for dinner." He added when she finished laughing.

She wrinkled her nose. "Is your father going to glare daggers while your mother pesters me with questions me about my ovulation cycles?"

"Most likely."

"Can we skip it?"

"Gladly. If I have to answer one more question about us, I'm kidnapping you and we're going to stay on a deserted island."

Hermione grinned at him. "Promise?"

A small pop announced the arrival of Patsy. "Mistress and guest is coming to dinner now?"

Draco looked hopeful. "Does that count?"

Laughing, Hermione shook her head and led the way out of the room.

Despite his insistence that he was the boss and could decide when he worked, Draco wasn't the type to allow himself to fall too far behind. After they ate an enjoyable dinner together, he gathered the papers that were scattered across Hermione's bedroom floor and Flooed home to catch up in the work he'd missed. But not before promising another attempt at a date; they were going somewhere he'd refused to disclose to Hermione on the upcoming Friday.

The weekdays she spent waiting in anticipation seemed to drag out for Hermione. It didn't help that Draco seemed to be of the opinion that his absence would make her heart grow fonder – it didn't, she just missed his company, particularly their bickering and the comfort he seemed to be able to provide her when she was scared at night.

When Friday _finally _rolled around, she wasn't able to spend the entire day getting ready – unlike Draco, she couldn't just take a day off. He would have to settle for her with only an hour's preparation put into her looks. If he had a problem with that, than she didn't want a relationship with someone so shallow.

Her hair was as tamed as she was going to get it, and her dress was simple yet flattering when she looked at herself in the mirror. She was putting the final touches on her very light makeup.

A knock sounded at the door, making her slip a little with the mascara wand and mutter angrily as she wiped the mess, moving to open the door. It couldn't be Draco yet, he was a half-hour early and it was unlikely that he'd walk instead of wandering in like he owned the place. She smoothed out the front of her dress and made a face at herself before going to see who it was at the door.

Patsy was standing in the entrance hall, shuffling nervously when Hermione got there. "Mistress! He be insisting that Mistress needs to be getting the door, even when Patsy told him to wait inside!" The distraught elf wailed, obviously distressed that someone was interfering with what she felt was proper.

"It's all right Patsy, I can get it." Hermione soothed over her shoulder as she grabbed hold of the door handle.

Draco was waiting for her on the other side. "You look ravishing." He announced, not giving her time to ask why he was knocking on the door like a normal person.

Hermione grinned and blushed at his compliment before stepping back to invite him inside. He wasn't having any of that though. "Hold out your hand." He ordered after a firm shake of his head.

Confused, Hermione did what he bid. The thing he placed in it was small and round, and looked like a plain river rock.

She was in the process of asking him what it was when he took the hand that was holding the rock into his larger one. Draco chuckled when he saw her adorably confused look shift to understanding as they both felt the tug of a portkey. He enjoyed keeping her on her toes; she tried to be in control all the time and needed a break from all that control occasionally – a break he was more than willing to supply.

They landed on a cold and windy ledge. Looking around, Hermione saw that they were actually on a small island, without room for much more than the large house that was perched on it and the ring of trees surrounding three sides of the house. Light, dry snow was blowing in the air, making it look like there were sparkles suspended all around them. It also made Hermione _freezing_.

Draco brought her attention back to him when he placed his warm jacket around her shivering shoulders.

"Where are we?" She asked, still shivering a little despite the warm jacket.

"I've whisked you away to my private island." He said proudly.

Hermione looked around skeptically, taking in the dark water far below them and the freezing wind that was whipping her hair against her face. "It's not quite what I was expecting."

"At no point did I say it was a tropical island." He said defensively, slightly hurt that she wasn't more excited about the date he'd planned. "Besides, this way I get to keep you warm."

He grabbed her hand and led her into the large, warm building that was waiting for them, sheltered from the harsh wind by the many trees surrounding it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**A/N: Ah Sociology... It's a 3 hour lecture and not over until 10pm, and there's enough extra time while writing notes that I managed to write most of this chapter and a bit of the next.**

***bigeyes* Almost 250 reviews! You guys are awesome! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Thanks to arrandomness for betaing! There's only one chapter and the epilogue after this! I'll be sad to see it go... I'm excited to hear what you guys will think of the ending though! It's a bittersweet thing...**

**I have another new story posted (another one!) and what I'm going to tentatively call a oneshot in the works, so you might want to go to my profile and see what's new... You know, if you want to.**

**~Frosty**

"Draco..." Hermione whispered, looking around the dark, musty kitchen they'd just entered. "Is that a _bear _on the wall?" She edged away from the growling animal mounted just inside the door. It wasn't that she was afraid; it was just that the thing was creepy and she'd rather not deal with it if she didn't have to.

Draco actually looked a little bit embarrassed. "Mother hasn't managed to redecorate all the vacation houses yet, and the Malfoy ancestors had a bit of a... morbid streak in them when it came to their decorating."

She nodded, not surprised about their choices in decorating. She'd actually been disconcerted by the light and airy rooms of Malfoy Manor the first time she'd visited because she'd thought it would be something closer to the decor in this house; dead things used as a form of decoration, and gloomy lighting.

Draco directed her to the table while he moved to the stove. He titled his head at it for a second, contemplating the contraption and subtly glancing over his shoulder at Hermione to see if she was paying attention.

When he was sure that she was watching, he bent down and pulled a casserole out of the oven.

Hermione watched him and raised a skeptical brow, something she had probably picked up from him. "You don't seriously expect me to believe that you cooked that just because you figured out how to pull it out of the oven, do you?"

Draco frowned as he dished out two servings and sat down beside her, setting the plates down in front of the both of them. "What gave me away?"

"You didn't know what parsley _was _a few days ago, now you expect me to believe that you cook with it?"

Draco glared at the offending green bits. "I expect the elves were excited about having the opportunity to use the stuff since they're not permitted at home."

She grinned triumphantly. "So you admit you didn't cook it?"

"In all fairness, I never actually claimed I cooked it." He defended.

Hermione patted his cheek condescendingly as her grin widened. "And I'm very proud that you're managing your Slytherin side by not telling outright lies."

He frowned a little irritably at her and batted the hand away. "I thought it would be better to bring you here rather than a restaurant. You seem to have a history of making scenes."

Hermione blushed and looked away from him, mumbling something along the lines of not knowing what he was talking about.

"Don't think I haven't forgotten your little outburst in the restaurant." The smug bastard proclaimed, causing Hermione to blush darker. "You never did answer me when I asked you in the alley; who is it you love?"

Angry with herself for being so meek, Hermione forced her eyes from the tabletop to meet his challengingly. "Why does it concern you?"

"I want to know the competition." He said flippantly while raging inside at the mere _thought_ that there was someone competing for her affections – not that he had any doubt he'd win the competition, but the thought of someone else even _touching_ her made him see red. Draco had never been known for sharing – come to think of it, not Malfoy had _ever_ been known for sharing.

"And if there isn't any?" She was playing coy, not sure she was ready to admit to Draco that it was him she loved. His reaction would determine her response.

"Then I just might have to sweep the food off the table and have my way with you."

"On the table, with that creepy bear watching?" The bear growled again, as if it knew it had been mentioned.

Draco contemplated the bear for a minute, head cocked to the side. "Better the bear than the herd of zebras and lions mounted in the master bedroom. They seemed to be going for a safari theme in there."

Hermione was happy he was playing along with her change of topic and not pressing the matter, it was considerate of him.

"Is there _any _room in this house that isn't prominently displaying something dead?" Hermione asked in exasperation, wondering why in the world he'd bring here there knowing how disturbed the animals on the wall would leave her.

A glint came into his eyes as he pretended to contemplate her question. "We could easily shove the vulture doorstop out of the loo. There's a lovely claw-footed tub here, plenty of room for two people."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him and continued eating her casserole, pretending that she hadn't heard his comment. "Why'd you pick _here_?" She asked as the bear snarled at them in the background.

Draco glanced at the clock. "You'll see in about an hour. Don't think you've deterred me from finding out who it was you were talking about."

They finished the rest of their dinner with companionable chatter, discussing everything, from subjects of little significance to their thoughts on the war. The peaceful meal allowed them to better get to know each other in a setting that didn't involve looming death or meddlesome house elves, parents, friends, or paintings. Had there date ended after the dinner, Hermione would've been perfectly content with time well-spent, however she spent the entire time knowing that Draco had something planned and was looking forward to it.

Draco kept glancing at his watch, reminding Hermione that he had a timed surprise for her. She wasn't sure if it was intentional, but his constant reminders that they were waiting for something was only building her anticipation.

"A few more minutes," Draco soothed when he noticed how much she was fidgeting. He had known before he'd done it that letting her know there was a surprise ahead of time and then not telling her about it would drive her insane and he was enjoying watching her squirm.

Hermione pretended to be uninterested, or at least mask some of the impatience she was feeling. She _hated _knowing there was a surprise and then having to wait to find out what it was! And Draco had probably done it on _purpose_! The prat.

Draco smirked at her feigned nonchalance. "I know it's driving you insane Granger."

Hermione huffed, both at his presumption that he knew her reactions – his accuracy of said presumptions aside – and that he'd reverted to her last name as he teased her. She _liked _the way her first name sounded when he said it.

His only answer to her huff was a widening of the smirk. It was killing her trying to guess his surprise.

Draco glanced at his watch once again and then took a quick look out the window. "It's time," he announced, grabbing her hand and leading her away from the table.

"Where are we going?" She asked, finally giving in and asking questions. Who cared that she acknowledged that she was excited and curious? It was just her and Draco there, so it wasn't like someone was going to be judgemental.

Draco didn't answer; he pulled her up a narrow set of stairs and then opened a small, rickety door to reveal another, narrower staircase. He slowed down when she stumbled a little bit on an uneven step and was more careful after that – it seemed that in his eagerness to show her the surprise, he'd forgotten that her legs were shorter than his.

Hermione was puffing a little by the time Draco reached the top of the stairs, but it wasn't enough to distract her from wondering what in the world he was showing her. As far as she could remember, there were only two floors in the house.

They walked out onto a widow's walk that went the length of the house along the highest point of the roof. Draco put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close while he turned the both of them to face the water.

Hermione gasped at what she saw. What had previously looked like a black and cold expanse of water was lit up into a glowing sheet of silver by the full moon above them. The snow that was still blowing in the air lit up, catching the light and reflecting it in a million different ways, and the snow that was on the ground was luminous, setting off the bright water with an even brighter backdrop. It was like they'd left the dark and dingy house and emerged into a world of cool light and peaceful beauty; it was like a fairytale.

"Draco, it's beautiful," she whispered in awe, not taking her eyes from the spectacle in front of them.

When she finally managed to tear her focus from the sight, Hermione found that Draco wasn't looking towards the water, he was watching her. Like the water, his hair was catching the light, and it was washing all the colour out of his already nearly monochrome hair and face; he was almost as beautiful as the water – not that she'd tell him that.

Instead, Hermione chose to ruin the moment. "If you tell me it's not as beautiful as me, I'm kicking you in the shin – hard." Almost nothing could eclipse the sight in front of them, and she was more than aware that her average looks couldn't compare.

Draco laughed. "I wouldn't want that, you might hurt your delicate foot. Just know I'll be thinking it." He knew his comment had probably made her flush with anger, but it was hard to tell in only the moonlight. Unknowingly, Draco was thinking almost the same thing about Hermione as she'd been thinking about him.

"I'm not delicate!" She snapped; she hated it when people thought of her as weak. She was just as capable as anyone else!

He could tell by her face that she was getting ready to lecture him on a statement that he hadn't meant any offense by – she really did have dainty little feet. Before she could even draw the breath to start he headed it off by kissing her.

He felt the second she decided that she'd rather kiss him back instead of fight him; she relaxed against him, allowing the tension in her shoulders to fall away as she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her hands in his hair as he did the same.

The cold of the air eventually forced them back inside, where they continued from the place they'd left off on the roof. Eventually, they found a mutually pleasing way to warm up – after a small tangent on Hermione's part about the amount of death that happened to decorate the master bedroom.

* * *

"I'm surprised at you Granger; I didn't think you were the type to shag someone on a first date." There was her last name again! He didn't seem able to tease her without reverting to Granger again.

"I'm surprised at _you _Malfoy; I would've thought you had more self-preservation than to say something like that to me." She looked down at the sheet over him, the only form of covering he had. "Particularly when you have so little protecting something in which you seem to place quite a lot of value."

A lecherous smile made its way onto Draco's face as he remembered the previous night. "As I remember, you seemed to place quite a lot of value in it as well."

Hermione huffed and got out of the bed. "Not so much that I wouldn't resort to removing it if you imply I'm a slag one more time."

Draco was disappointed when she pulled the sheet off the bed and brought it with her, but she wouldn't be Hermione if she wasn't at least a little bit modest. He was so focused on trying to get a glimpse of her as she moved that it took a minute for what she'd said to sink in.

"Hermione, nothing about you is a slag. You're one of the most virtuous people I know." He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he ran over what he'd just said. She was making him go soft.

He heard the huff that was his response from the loo. "So I'm a prude?"

Draco rolled his eyes and groaned; there was just no winning with her.

When a quiet giggle came from the other room, he knew that she wasn't taking his teasing comment as the insult that she'd initially pretended to think it was.

When the giggle turned into a screech of surprise, Draco was out of the bed and at her side in a second. "What's wrong?" He asked anxiously as she tried to shove him out of the room.

"Reporter in the tree outside the window, you're making it worse," she groaned, finally succeeding to get him out of the room, but not before another flash from outside the window bathed the two of them in its artificial glow.

As soon as he realized what was going on, Draco was outside flinging hexes at the offending reporter. The problem with magic was, by the time Draco had shoved both legs into a pair of boxers so he wouldn't be running after the man completely naked, the blasted reporter had time to get a few more shots of the house and a good one of Draco flinging a hex before he Apparated away.

Hermione came out a minute later, fully clothed and looking pale. "I suppose that's one way to let the public know what's going on with us," she mumbled.

"How did he find us here? Better yet, _why _would he want to find us here?" Draco wondered. He led the way back into the house – it was _freezing _outside, particularly without shoes... or pants.

An owl tapped on the window, interrupting their discussion on who could have _possibly_ told the reporter their location.

_Draco,_

_An Auror was just here demanding to know your location. By the time this gets to you, he'll probably be on his way. They've already taken your father into custody and the press has been having a field day trying to find where you are. I suggest you prepare yourself and tell Hermione that I would appreciate the company if she wishes to accompany me to the Ministry to enquire about the arrests._

Draco scowled at the parchment. "Here's my answer. I almost wish I hadn't asked."

Hermione paled even more when she read the letter over. "They're coming to arrest you? Do you think this has anything to do with that man you had in the dungeons?" She asked worriedly, grabbing his forearm and digging her nails in unconsciously in anxiety.

"Could be. It could also be something completely unrelated. We won't say anything until we know what I'm being brought in for." Draco soothed, gently removing her surprisingly sharp nails from his skin.

He would've said more, but there was a knock at the door. Hermione gave Draco a worried look before going and opening it. She was hoping that whoever had come to arrest him would see her first and realize they were making a mistake; why would Hermione Granger spend time with a criminal? She was, but the arresting Auror wouldn't know that.

"Hermione?" Harry asked in disbelief. She could see Ron looking furious over Harry's shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you two the same thing." She stepped back to let the pair of them enter the house. They gave away how on edge they were when they both whipped out their wands and pointed them at the bear as it growled at the new guests.

"Potter, Weasley." Draco greeted coolly from where he had settled as Hermione opened the door. He was leaning against the counter and pretending he'd done nothing to warrant their visit – something Malfoys were particularly good at – despite the fact that, more often than not, the Malfoy being accused _had_ actually done it, whatever 'it' was. "I'm beginning to think that the 'private' part of this island was grossly exaggerated. To what do I owe this... blatant disregard for my privacy?"

Ron looked up from the angry and betrayed look he'd been giving Hermione to turn to Draco. "Draco Malfoy, you're under arrest. We're to bring you to the Ministry for questioning." The redhead recited with relish, flourishing his magical handcuffs. If he jerked Draco's arms behind his back a little too hard or tightened the cuffs a little too much, the blond didn't say anything; Hermione noticed though, and she winced in sympathy – something Harry saw.

"Neither of you seem surprised that we're here," Harry accused, his green eyes boring into Hermione's brown ones.

She glared and flicked her wand, bringing the parchment from where it had fallen to the floor and into Harry's hands. "We had warning. Now what is this about?"

Harry's eyes moved back to Hermione from the parchment. "We were questioning that witness that showed up with his memory altered when I got word that a memory modification specialist from Australia was in the area for a conference or something. We got her to come in and take a look at him. She couldn't really fix the man, but he did give us two names: Lucius and Draco Malfoy."

Hermione did her best to conceal her reaction to this, darting a quick look at Draco to see that he had a forced blank look onto his face. She wished she had that ability, her worry was probably written across her visage for the entire world to see.

Ron jerked Draco towards the door, and it was the final straw for Hermione. She had been more than patient as her friend adjusted to the idea of her and Draco, but he'd met her with nothing but hostility. "Ron! At least let him put some pants on; you know the Ministry's going to be swarming with the press when you get there."

Ron turned an angry glare on her. "Why should I?"

"Because it's something a decent human being would do?" Draco spoke up. He immediately shut his mouth again when Hermione glared at him; he wasn't helping his case.

Harry intervened before they fell into a battle over something as silly as pants. He conjured a plain pair of pants and a shirt with a wave of his wand, and then put them on the blond with another wave.

Hermione looked at him gratefully and nodded her thanks, but Draco wrinkled his nose and shifted uncomfortably. "Polyester, Potter? Are we going for the prison uniform feel before you even get to the question-"

Draco broke off abruptly when Hermione kicked him in the ankle. He glared, but there was no real heat in it - she was worried about him and lashing out because of it. He sighed and decided right then to cooperate, for her sake.

"All right, let's get this thing over with so you can catch the real culprit," he said with resignation, giving the anxious brunette a look that was meant to be reassuring before the Weasel jerked him forward and they Disapperated to the Ministry.

Harry watched Hermione worriedly. "You sure you know what you're doing?"

She nodded firmly, still staring after the blond even though he was no longer in sight. "More sure than I've been about anything in a long time."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**A/N: I recently rewatched the first Harry Potter movie... Does anyone else go 'awwww look how small they all are!'? They're just so little, it's adorable.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, etc.! And, as always, thanks to arrandomenss for betaing! (And sorry I forgot to include the thanks when I first posted this chapter...  
**

**The last chapter! Only the epilogue to go after this! *sigh* I debated for a long time if I should end it here, I didn't want to be one of those authors that drag the story out for 10 chapters after the story should be over. I hope you like it...**

**~Frosty**

Hermione was pacing and wringing her hands anxiously as they waited for Draco and Lucius to finish their questioning. Her hair was frazzled from the night before and made worse by her repeated tugging on it with worry, she was a mess.

In contrast, Narcissa was as cool and collected as her husband and son had been. She was calmly sitting in a chair and had been watching Hermione lose it for the past half-hour with a detached expression.

"Hermione, I think you should sit down and eat something, I can hear your stomach growling from over here." Narcissa eventually called.

At the reminder that she hadn't eaten, Hermione blushed. She'd been too worried to have any sort of appetite, but her body hadn't forgotten that she'd skipped a meal, even if her mind had.

"How can you just sit there and be so _calm_?" She asked. Narcissa was calm and cool, while Hermione was a complete wreck!

The blonde woman tilted her head to the side and contemplated the question. "It helps that I've done this several times before and everything turned out all right. The trick is to _know _that everything will go your way, even if it looks like you're going to face a few bumps in the road on the way there."

Hermione thought about this advice. "But how can you know that?"

"That's the trick of it; you can't. But to give other people the impression that you know you're going to get your way makes _them _start to believe it too."

Hermione nodded hesitantly, she _sort of _understood that. She wasn't sure if she should be worried that what she would've once thought of as twisted Slytherin logic was starting to make sense. It was helping her at the moment, so she decided the worry could wait until her twisted Slytherin wasn't in trouble with the Aurors anymore.

"Among their other talents, Malfoy men are skilled at getting out of tight spots. This will all blow over soon." Narcissa patted Hermione's knee comfortingly as the Gryffindor finally stopped her pacing and settled into the chair beside her.

Just as Hermione was starting to believe the other woman's comforting words, there was a loud bang and a yell from the interrogation room down the hall. Both women were on their feet and hovering anxiously outside the door before the Aurors down the hall even knew something may be wrong.

Ron came storming out of the room, narrowly missing Hermione with the door as he flung it open and stomped down the corridor. Narcissa and Hermione glanced at each other before looking through the open door to the interrogation room where they could see Draco sitting at the metal table looking smug and amused. That didn't bode well...

"Draco, what'd you tell him?" Hermione asked after assessing the blond and realizing he looked too smug to be injured.

His grin widened when he saw her. "He tried to use Legilimency on me, but it seemed like all he could get through to were the events of last night." He said this innocently, as if he had no idea how something like that could have possibly happened.

Hermione was torn between strangling him and laughing helplessly. She had decided on strangling when Narcissa developed and interested expression and looking intently between the two. "What _did _happen last night?"

Before Hermione could take a step towards Draco to strangle him or answer his mother, Harry came out of a room down the hall with a questioning look. "What's going on out here?"

"The angry red one just stormed away, he nearly killed poor Hermione here with the door." Narcissa told Harry, doing a good job of falsifying a look of concern in the direction in which Ron had stormed off.

Harry made an aggravated sound before sticking his head back into the room he had just exited. When he came out again, Lucius was behind him, looking unruffled and irritated.

"Draco Malfoy, you're free to go, we don't have any reason to hold either of you besides the word of an insane man and that'll never hold in court. The Ministry apologises for the inconvenience." Harry called as he passed the room where the younger blond was still waiting.

Draco was out of his chair and at Hermione's side before Harry was more than a few steps away. "Well, that was interesting," he announced, slipping his hand into Hermione's and putting himself between her and Lucius – his father didn't look like he had a particular problem with Hermione at the moment, but Draco wasn't taking any chances.

Lucius was glaring at their intertwined hands with such ferocity that it seemed like he was trying to separate them with the strength of his eyes alone. Narcissa gently touched his shoulder and shook her head slightly when he glanced at her in question. He couldn't believe she was just going to go along with it - the boy was spoiling the bloodline that had taken centuries to build.

Despite appearances, Hermione and Draco weren't as absorbed in each other as they seemed, they were aware of the silent conversation going on behind them. "Just wait until they see the paper," Draco whispered ominously.

Hermione's eyes widened and she looked at him with horror. She'd forgotten about the photographer that had captured a picture of her near naked with a completely naked Draco in the background. This needed to be dealt with.

"I will _not _have naked pictures of me published in the paper!" She hissed.

"What would you have me do about it?"

"I don't know, _you're _the Slytherin. You're the one who's supposed to be devious."

Draco pondered this for a minute before nodding. "I like it when you call me devious."

"So go be devious."

"You asked for it, be prepared to face the consequences my little Gryffindor." He glanced back at his father to make sure the man wasn't going to try anything, but Mother seemed to have everything under control. Satisfied that Hermione would be fine Draco slipped his hand out of hers and disappeared in the direction of the Ministry fireplaces.

"I know that look; it doesn't bode well for whoever's crossed him." Narcissa said, watching him leave. It was amusing that Narcissa sounded proud instead of worried that Draco was about to rain hell on some poor, unsuspecting reporter. Hermione was a tiny bit worried that she'd unleashed Draco's wrath onto a relatively harmless reporter, then she remembered Rita Skeeter and the worry dissipated – no reporter like that was harmless, he probably deserved it.

* * *

It was with relief that Hermione finally excused herself from the presence of the older Malfoys –Narcissa seemed particularly intent on finding out every excruciating detail about their date - and Flooed home. She'd had a very busy few hours, and couldn't wait to just relax with a good book.

All plans of relaxation were dashed when she found Draco waiting for her smugly in her library.

"How'd you get back here so fast?" She asked is disbelief; Narcissa had been asking all kinds of questions, but she'd only kept Hermione there for around half an hour.

Draco proudly spread the papers he had been looking at across the table so Hermione could see them as well. There were several of her and Draco scantily clad, some of which were slightly obscured by leaves presumably having blown into the shot.

"How'd you get these so fast?" She demanded, not entirely sure she wanted to know. It was a good thing he had them as it would have been a disaster had they made it into the paper, but she really hoped he hadn't ruined someone's life to get the pictures.

Draco grinned evilly. "The tosser's mum works for one of the Malfoy owned companies, and apparently, she's fond enough of her job to want to keep it."

"You went to his _mother_?" She demanded with a groan. That was so... Slytherin of him.

Draco didn't tell her that the man had also lost his job, he felt that maybe Hermione would think that was going too far, but he needed to learn that no one gets away with offending a Malfoy. The man would probably be able to find work again... eventually.

He nodded, looking at the pictures again. "I rather like this one," he held up a picture that managed to completely exclude Draco and showed a completely un-obscured picture of Hermione's chest. He contemplated it a little longer before looking back at the real Hermione. "I had to Obliviate him for seeing it." His eyes darkened dangerously. "No one but me gets to see you like that."

Hermione rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but she didn't object; it's not like she'd planned on flashing people or anything. His possessiveness was kind of adorable, in a way that was completely irritating to the tiny feminist voice inside her.

"Hermione!" Someone shouted from the main floor.

Patsy appeared in front of the pair in the library wringing her hands anxiously. "Sorry Mistress, the angry red one wouldn't wait in the foyer."

Hermione smiled at the elf. "It's all right Patsy, just ignore him. He'll probably make his way here eventually."

Draco had watched their interaction with amusement. He used the time to hide the pictures deep in one of his pockets – Hermione probably would have made him destroy them had she known, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Hermione sighed when she turned to look at the still smug blonde. "Did you really have to show him those things while he was interrogating you? Now he's going to attempt to hex you or something."

"He didn't have the clearance to use Legilimency on me, the only reason he tried was because he has a personal grudge, which is highly inappropriate activity for an Auror. I put him in his place."

She was about to retort when the library doors burst in and Ron barged into the room.

"Look, for the first time in his life the 'angry red one' has willingly entered a place of knowledge. We should watch him closely in case he bursts into flames." Draco adopted an innocent expression at Hermione's glare. "What? I'm just taking his health into consideration."

"Hermione! How can you be sleeping with Malfoy like some-some _whore_?" Ron demanded, his wand was trained on the blond, but the majority of his attention was focused on the brunette.

Harry ran in a second later and tackled Ron, seeming to have just caught up with his friend. "Sorry about this Hermione... Malfoy. He's about to take some personal time off and he's a little... distraught about it."

Ron continued to struggle as Harry fought his wand out of his hands and used a body-bind curse on him. All three members of the trio had been so focused on the struggle happening that none of them noticed Draco jump from his chair and stalk across the room.

He crouched down by Ron and said something in the redhead's ear that made the angry flush drain from his face until he was so pale that every one of his freckles was glaringly obvious. Hermione could only watch as Harry looked sharply at Draco in surprise before Draco walked smugly back across the room and settled back in his chair.

"What did you say?" She asked him suspiciously. He just shrugged and continued to look smug.

Hermione whipped her attention over to her two friends. "What did he say?"

Ron still looked like he was in shock, but Harry just shook his head. "I'm going to take Ron to the Burrow, he needs some time to deal with his issues. I'll see you later Hermione." He dragged Ron from the room, leaving a confused and curious Hermione in his wake.

She turned to Draco and actually stomped her foot. "I need to know what you told Ron! No one can get him to shut up like that."

Draco's amused face dropped into a more serious expression as he looked at her. She was acting like a five-year-old, stomping her feet and everything. In anyone else he'd have found this annoying and unseemly, but it Hermione it was adorable and endearing. He wrinkled his nose; the woman was going to make him melt into a puddle of sentimental goo – not that he wouldn't enjoy the entire journey.

He'd told the Weasel what he had as a spur-of-the-moment, furious reaction to the insult the brainless moron had thoughtlessly thrown at someone he was supposed to call a friend. It wasn't until after he'd said it that Draco realized it was the truth. She had a right to know what he'd said - what he thought - but what if it was too soon?

"Draco?" Hermione asked, confused by his long silence and conflicted expression.

Might as well get it out there before Potter blabbed what he'd heard or Weasley somehow managed to pull his head out of his own arse long enough to inappropriately blurt it out. "If you dare say anything like that to the woman I love again, I'll make sure you don't live to see the light of the next day," he recited in a monotone.

Hermione may have been a brave person, but her internal organs weren't. She was pretty sure her stomach had fled at the first mention of the word 'love' from Draco, and the rest seemed to follow, pushing and shoving each other along the way – cowards. "Were you..." She gulped, not sure if she wanted to finish the question, but Hermione had never been one to avoid asking a question for fear of the answer. "Were you just saying that to mess with Ron, or did you really mean it?"

"I inadvertently told the Weasel the truth while trying to screw with his head," Draco admitted, smiling at the barely hidden excitement in her voice. She wasn't running or looking regretful, so he guessed he hadn't been too soon.

Hermione was ecstatic. He loved her! She flung herself at his and mashed her mouth against his smiling one. For once she didn't care that he was laughing at her enthusiasm.

She suddenly pulled away, not coming down from her tiptoes or untangling her hands from his hair and looked at him seriously. "It was you."

"What was me?"

"In the restaurant. It was you that Ginny and I were talking about. It's been you I loved all along."

Draco looked smug. "Good. Now I don't have to hex some bloke into oblivion."

She wasn't sure whether he was serious or not, but knew that asking would probably lead to an argument, so she dropped it, opting to change the subject instead. "You thought there might be someone else? The great Draco Malfoy actually had doub- mmmffh."

He shut her up with a kiss – his favourite way of silencing her.


	24. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**A/N: Hello readers! *tear* I can't believe it's over!**

**Thanks to arrandomness for letting me use her idea in this chapter! It wouldn't have been the same without her contribution, and she betaed it of course! Also, thanks to everyone who's reviewed, you guys are the ones who make it fun to write!**

**There's not going to be a sequel... Though there may be a related oneshot in the (distant) future. If you're looking for something else to read, I have several new stories... **

**Also, it was suggested to me that maybe I should change the rating on this to M, does anyone else think it should be? I don't want it rated wrong...  
**

**~Frosty **

Emerence watched fondly as the two blanket covered figures in the bed stirred when the sunbeam that had gradually been approaching finally moved across their faces. She was so happy everything had worked out for the two of them – not that she'd ever had any doubts. The bigger lump pulled the blanket up over both of their heads in an attempt to get a few more minutes of uninterrupted sleep before they faced the day.

"Mummy! Daddy!" A squeaky voice yelled, its owner opening the door and launching himself at the two people in the bed.

"Scorpius," the larger lump groaned as a small foot landed rather hard on his stomach.

"It's day! Time to get up sleepyheads." The small boy announced.

Hermione came out from under the covers and grabbed him around the waist before he managed to jump on poor Draco again. She could still hear him wheezing slightly from the stomach hit he'd just taken.

"Granger, get that offspring of yours under control," Draco ordered, sounding slightly out of breath.

Both the brunette and the little boy she was carrying laughed.

"Mummy's not Granger daddy, Grandma and Grandpa Granger are called Granger." The little boy chided. His daddy had obviously forgotten that Mummy was called Hermione Malfoy, or just Mummy.

Hermione stood up from the bed and made her way to the kitchen, Scorpius still in her arms.

Estrella was waiting for them when they arrived in the dining room. "Sorry Mum, Patsy and I told him to let you two sleep in, but he never listens."

Hermione smiled warmly at her daughter. She was only eight and so grown up already with looks just like her mother, but her father's colouring.

Patsy chose that moment to pop into the room, holding a tray of breakfast foods. The elf had been more than thrilled when she'd found out that Hermione was pregnant with Estrella, going as far as to only cook meals that were 'good for the baby' despite her mother's preferences.

They politely thanked the elf for the food and sat down for their meal, despite the fact that it was unreasonably early for normal people to be up and about in Draco's opinion.

Draco wandered into the room when they were half-finished, still in his pyjama pants. He smiled fondly at his family, settled around the table eating breakfast.

He joined them, plunking down into a chair before pulling a plate towards himself and piling it with Patsy's delicious cooking. At the moment, Narcissa and Lucius were living at Malfoy Manor while Draco, Hermione, and their two children were living in Delamater Manor.

"You're heavier than you look Scorpius," Draco announced, rubbing his stomach so the small boy would know he was referring to the bed incident.

Scorpius grinned proudly. "I'm growing!"

Estrella rolled her eyes. "I doubt you're significantly bigger than you were yesterday when you jumped on them and stepped on Daddy."

"Careful Ella, you've inherited my humour. It's greatly misunderstood." Draco told the small girl. She had her mother's brains and Draco's humour. It was a dangerous combination that was sure to make for an interesting time once she got her Hogwarts letter.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the same time Estrella did. "Ignore you Father, his humour wasn't misunderstood, he was – and still is – just a foul git." Before either of the children could say something to _that_, Hermione frowned to herself, mentally going over what she'd just said. "And neither of you are to repeat those words, they're not polite." She added.

Draco was smirking at her after she'd looked at the children to make sure they'd understood that they weren't to go around calling people 'foul gits'. "What?"

"If I'm such a horrible person, then how come you love me so much?"

"You're making assumptions Malfoy, and you'll only make a fool of yourself." She announced, turning away from him with a pretend huff. The children saw the exaggerated wink she gave them where Draco couldn't see and giggled at the pretend argument between their parents.

They laughed harder when Draco got up from his chair and stormed around the table, looming over her mock-threateningly. "No one makes a fool of a Malfoy."

She raised an eyebrow. "Not even another Malfoy?"

He dropped the threatening pose to grin at the children, who were giggling. "What should we do with this person who dares to try and make a fool out of a Malfoy?"

They seemed to think about it for a moment, before Scorpius jumped up on the seat of his chair and raised his hand. "We find their weakness and exploit it shamelessly!" He said excitedly.

Hermione glared at her husband. "I told you not to teach them that kind of thing."

Draco shrugged, giving her an innocent look. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"If you get caught: deny, deny, deny." Scorpius chimed in helpfully.

"I was just going to suggest a ransom kiss," Draco complained. Looking to the children for sympathy and only getting more giggles.

Hermione caved in and gave him a peck on the cheek so he could go sit down again. She could deprogram the children later, on a day that wasn't her anniversary.

When they'd finished eating, they went their separate ways to get ready for the party that was taking place at their house that night. Patsy followed Scorpius to make sure he didn't try to wear his Muggle superhero outfit to a social event again.

* * *

The guests were had started to gather in the ballroom, and Hermione and Draco were just going in to join them when they were interrupted.

"Look! I'm an underwear model, just like Daddy!" The shout was immediately followed by a small boy, wearing only his underwear. When he got to the center of the room, he posed dramatically for the people that had come to investigate the loud noise.

"That boy has a few screws loose." Draco heard his daughter mutter. He was so proud; his little girl was growing up to be a true scornful Malfoy – minus the prejudice.

Hermione wasn't paying attention to the children, she was looking over at the knowing look Emerence was giving the two children as Estrella got fed up and dragged the boy from the room, scolding him about wearing pants in public no matter what his Father got paid to do. Hermione was a little worried, she knew that look.

Blaise and his wife – a Muggle woman who'd also started her modeling career as an underwear model – came into the room with apologetic looks on their faces. It wasn't unusual for those two to have to apologise for their son, he was just like his father, but without a friend like Draco to keep him in line.

"Like father, like son," Draco said with a raised eyebrow, questioning how the boy had managed to shed his clothes without them stopping him.

Blaise shrugged and looked after the two children. "He's exactly like me, without a prat like you walking into the room and whacking him on the back of his head before telling him to put his damn pants back on." Both wives laughed a little at this, it sounded just like something Blaise and Draco would do.

"I wouldn't have had to do things like that if you didn't have an obsession with practically naked modeling!"

Blaise shrugged again. "I can't help it if I'm irresistible. No one can stop looking at me, even me."

Draco rolled his eyes before smiling at the moron and motioned them towards the ballroom, where all their friends had gathered. He noticed the look on Hermione's face and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her into a corner out of the sightline of their guests.

"What's wrong?" He asked, smoothing a thumb over the space between her eyebrows, where a frown-line had appeared.

Hermione glanced towards the painting Emerence was visiting. "Recognise that look?"

His eyes widened a little bit before he covered the look with a glare towards the painting. "She's doing her all-knowing thing again, isn't she?"

Hermione nodded.

"_Please _tell me Zabini's spawn isn't the one she was looking at with that look." He paled a little when Hermione remained silent, only levelled a serious stare at her distraught husband.

"Everything will be all right." She soothed, patting his tense arm. "Emerence never had any doubt that everything would be all right with us, we're going to have to have the same attitude with Estrella."

"The damn painting knew all along." Draco muttered. "Seems to know everything, and it's really infuriating."

Hermione smiled and pulled him back towards the guests; there was nothing they could do if their daughter was fated to be with the boy, despite any objections they might have. "We didn't think this-" she gestured between them "-would work out in the beginning, but look how happy we are. We just have to trust that fate will make our daughter just as happy."

Draco mumbled something, not sounding pleased with the way things seemed like they were going to turn out. "Come on, we have a room full of all of our friends and family waiting to congratulate us on not killing each other after ten years of marriage."

"Not that there was ever any doubt that we wouldn't get a happily ever after," Hermione added, with a less-than-gentle elbow in his ribs.

"Happy anniversary!" Everyone yelled when the pair entered the room.

Hermione smiled a dazzling smile at the gathered people, Draco pretended to scowl at the lot of them on principle – they were mostly former-Gryffindors. No one bought the scowl and they treated his dark expression with the same smiles they directed at Hermione – they were more than used to Draco's attitude.

"Hermione!" A very large, pregnant Ginny launched herself at her friend. Harry followed behind his wife at a more sedate pace.

"It's been ten years and I still can't believe you married Malfoy!" Ginny exclaimed, an old joke between their friends, who had met the initial relationship between the Gryffindor and the snarky Slytherin with doubt and worry for their friend in the beginning.

After they had seen that Draco wasn't as bad as he initially came across, everyone had eventually decided that if he made Hermione that happy and wasn't really a bad guy, then there was no reason for her not to be with him.

The band started up as they were accepting yet another congratulation from a friend. Draco announced that he 'didn't want anything more to do with their sappy nonsense and was going to dance with his wife before he needed to vomit'.

He was a little put off when no one cowered in fear, but that's what he got for associating with Gryffindors too frequently – too much courage for their own good, the whole lot of them.

Hermione sighed happily and leaned against Draco as they swayed across the dance floor. "I love you, you know." She told him. He already knew, but she liked saying it.

He chuckled and pulled her closer. "I love you too. Now let's get out of here, I have a surprise for you."

Pulling back, Hermione looked up at him in disbelief. "You want to leave a party in our honour?"

Silver eyes rolled to the ceiling as he glared at the guests dancing around them. "They're having fun; they won't miss us for a while."

She was going to object further, but he gave her that _look_. That are-you-seriously-going-to-avoid-something-fun-because-of-your-pesky-Gryffindor-morals look. A quick glance around the room revealed that no one was actually watching them for the moment.

"Fine," she sighed. "But we've got to be quick. It's horribly rude to leave your guests like that."

Draco didn't wait for any more encouragement, he started swaying them towards the edge of the dance floor before she changed her mind and made him smile at the Weasel some more.

"This way." He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the Floo.

"Malfoy Manor?" Hermione was confused. Narcissa and Lucius had been at the party they'd just left, probably spoiling the children and teaching them that superior smirk they all seemed to be so good at – something Hermione had been horrified to notice she'd picked up from Draco. Why had Draco taken them to Malfoy Manor?

"I have something to show you." He led the way outside, exhibiting his usual Malfoy 'flair' when he made her turn around before he would open the door.

When Hermione finally saw what was outside, she gasped. Where there had once been a topiary garden towards the back of the property, there was now a small, serene lake.

"Draco, it's beautiful," she breathed, watching the light play across ripples in the water. Then something else occurred to her: "You mother's going to kill you for ruining her topiary garden.

Draco only smirked. "I asked her if she'd mind me putting a lake here, and she gave me permission. I thought it might be nice for one daughter to live at Delamater Manor when she grows up, and the other can live at Malfoy Manor."

Hermione's hand moved to cover her stomach. "How'd you know?"

Draco just smirked at her. "Love, I'm a Slytherin, no matter how many years ago I graduated. Just like you'll always be a goody-goody Gryffindor, forever surprised when I use underhanded techniques to get what I want."

Indignant, Hermione glared at him. "Speaking of underhanded, you need to stop teaching the childre-mmmffh."

The blond smirked against her lips. Yes, he decided. It was still his favourite way to silence her.


End file.
